Recently, my therapist had asked me what I mean when I mention the word “home” to someone. This question has also been on my mind for the past few years, specifically since the end of my sophomore year at college.
Growing up and until my parents got divorced, the answer was easy. It was my childhood home that I lived in until the summer after my 8th grade graduation. Then, we moved out of that house and my parents lived in separate places and the answer wasn’t as straightforward. And while the different places my parents lived in during this time never felt truly like my childhood house did, the idea and feeling of “home” was entirely driven by my relationship with and time spent with my mom.
As soon as I got to Boston College, the idea of home was changed again to just “Phoenix.” Internally and specifically, of course, that still meant wherever my mom was living.
However, this feeling started to get challenged during the spring of my sophomore year. Over the course of my first two years at BC, I had gradually fallen in love with the city of Boston and the culture of the Northeast in general. It was getting to a point where I started seeing myself living there after college rather than moving back to Arizona more often than not.
Even more importantly at this time, I had started to feel that my “life” was happening in Boston and Phoenix was just where my family lived. And while that wasn’t meant to demean or devalue the importance of Phoenix and my family, I think it was a valid feeling to have given that my entire life, academically and socially, was physically and emotionally in Boston. Internally, I felt this divide start to grow. And while I never saw the two places as competing with each other, it felt weird that my heart felt equally in two places at the same time for the first time in my life.
The other physical indicator that influenced my thoughts to this idea was whenever I bought plane tickets to travel between Boston and Phoenix. Of course, it’s become more apparent as my breaks during the year have become shorter since graduating college. But, it was a weird recognition to physically type in and see on the computer that my roundtrip ticket started and ended in Boston. And as I’ve become older, this is the case for all of my trips. Train tickets to NYC always start and end at South Station. A flight to Denver for one of my best friends’ wedding this summer started and ended in Terminal B at Logan. Road trips with my friends to New Hampshire or The Cape start and end at my apartment in Southie.
Right before the start of my senior year of college, I had accepted a full-time job in Boston after graduation. I think this is when this idea of “home” became more associated with Boston for the first time. Not only was it where I had spent the last 3 years of my life, I was on the precipice of obtaining my undergraduate college degree in a mere matter of months and just committed to working in Boston for the foreseeable future.
Since that moment, this has remained true. I have achieved many wonderful things, made many wonderful friends, and I pay rent with my own money for an apartment.
But, my idea of “home” has changed since then.
Going back to an earlier point, something that always remained true in my heart throughout all of these experiences and life updates was that my honest and genuine answer to this question was wherever my mom was at the time. Of course, this had been forged by our incredibly deep and meaningful relationship. I also found it comforting, especially because most of the year I was in Boston and she was in Phoenix. And in a way, her “home” was also with me in my life in Boston.
And, it wasn’t until she passed away last year that I realized how impactful that line of thinking would ultimately end up being for me.
To me, especially given my life experiences, home is a feeling.
It’s the feeling you have when you are safe, comfortable, loved, respected, and understood. It’s a word to describe places, spaces, experiences, friendships, and relationships that allow you to be the most authentic version of yourself, accepted for your triumphs and mistakes, and allow you to grow in the proper ways and speed that are most beneficial to you.
That was always with my mom. It’s with my friends. It’s with my family. It has been in my past relationship. It’s with my mentors. It’s here in my experiences in Boston and Phoenix.
So, that’s why Phoenix will always feel like home to me at the same time that Boston feels like home, too. Phoenix has my childhood, the memories of my mom, my brother and the amazing things he is accomplishing. It also is where my father, my grandparents, and my extended family are right now. They always have been and always will be “home” for me.
Boston feels like home because it’s where my friends are, my apartment, my job, my alma mater. And while I see myself eventually moving away from Boston for at least some part of my twenties (just to experience somewhere else), I will always hold that feeling that Boston is “home” for me.
Continued from that feeling I had in college, and only emphasized since the passing of my mom, I have found immense comfort in the idea of those that we have lost finding an eternal home within our hearts. Partly to guide us, and to “be there” as we continue to live and experience life. Also, because it is comforting to think they are safe, loved, and remembered within that sacred part of us. So, I’ve come to realize “home” will also always be where I find myself because my mom is here within my heart.
Beautiful and so powerful. You are an amazing writer to relate your deepest thoughts, keep on writing.