<--Return to Blog Index

Well, after a six day cross country road trip I finally made it to my Mom's house in Florida. I'll be here for a couple of weeks, decompressing from *checks watch* 15 years or so of employment.

Here I am, up late typing in the darkness, while crashing on her living room couch, and I'm thinking about Home, and where mine is.

My first reflexive thought when I think of home is the townhouse I spent most of my formative years in Virginia.

My brothers and I playing some Mario game on Nintendo 64 and trash talking each other.

Me staying up late watching X-Files in the unfinished at the time basement.

That feeling of comfort after coming in from a blustery winter to the warmth and a glowing Christmas tree.

Of course, other people live there now, and we've all grown up and some of us moved away. That home doesn't really exist as anything more than a memory. And though I spent many years in SF, left and returned more than a few times, I don't think I consider it home, either- probably because most days I was just struggling to keep afloat. Plus I lived out of hotels like 90% of the time.

So, here I am in Florida. 3 out of 4 siblings are under the same roof again, and the 4th lives right down the street and has been dropping by. Actually, after dinner we went a few rounds on the Nintendo Switch and trash talked each other, just like old times :D

So is this home? For now, fleeting as it may be, it feels like it. But I'm just a visitor, a tourist, and will soon have to be moving along.

If home is where the heart is, than I'm homeless. ...Though yes, I am also, like, literally homeless, too.

But, so far I have my health and a bit of money, and some sort of vague plan for the near future. Home will have to wait.

   Previous  Blog    Next