Monday, May 26, 2008
Home Sweet Home?
You know you aren't from Los Angeles when you decide it's a good idea to make s'mores on your balcony at 10am on a hot L.A. morning.
This is exactly what my best friend and I did the other day. As we sat there in our over sized sweats, drifting off into the nostalgia that the smell of coals and grilling brought back, we pressed together store brand graham crackers, slightly hung over and revived old Colorado camping memories, leaving the crumbs on our face and cleaning marshmallow off of dirty tree branches. We carefully picked out our sticks off the street on Burbank and hopped that some dog hadn't peed on them, or at least the pee taste would be covered up by overly burnt marshmallows.
The whole idea of "home" has been on my mind lately. Partially because, I don't really have one. Sure, I have an apartment in New York. I have an address and a roof over my head. A pillow, and a throw blankie (I have yet to buy a comforter...?) I have a cabinet and a bathroom, but it doesn't feel like home. It feels like a place that I stay at.
Half of my belongings are in storage (indefinitely) in Los Angeles, pieces of my past and photos, files, trinkets and a printer remain in the trunk of my car in Colorado. Then, the clothes that I could fit into two suitcases are in New York. I have stuff, but stuff doesn't make up for a feeling.
Fine, I have chosen to live like a Gypsy and truthfully I make anywhere I go "my home" for the time being. I find my favorite coffee shop, adapt to new friendships and create a routine. I wouldn't let go of the lifestyle I'm choosing, right now but the idea of home is as exciting as the idea of my wedding someday. Both of which seem very, very, far away. Maybe that's why I feel safe thinking about the both of them.
Home means you are committed to a place. Or having a home does. Having a home means setting timers for sprinklers, investing in a "welcome" mat, buying a spice rack from Bed Bath and Beyond and a blender that you'll let get dusty in the back of your cabinet. Home means at the end of the day you'll have somewhere to kick your feet back, throw your shoes in a pile in front of your door and misplace things but find them a couple weeks later.
Home is not only stability but it allows you to settle into your life, accept your surroundings and live in them. Home isn't just a place, but a feeling, a sense of belonging- the puzzle and you're that final piece that fits perfectly into it.
I want to choose paint colors, coordinating bathroom "stuff" toothbrush holders and a fancy plunger. I don't want to grocery shop for just a one serving meal. I'd like to buy marinades, fresh veggies and wine "just to have" for company. I'd like to finally find a place that I don't want to leave. I've accepted my need for adventure and I know that I each place, each "home", each month is just another piece in my patchwork quilt that I am making of my life. Some pieces are bright and busy, unique, others are blank, dark and confusing- but the WHOLE THING is beautiful, I'd just like a bed to place it all on at the end of the day.
My home will be a direct reflection of where I've been, who I am and will hopefully be a place that is full of light and energy, LOVE and loooong evenings of too much wine and even more conversation. Having a home would mean for me that I have taken on a new wave of acceptance of right. where. I'm. at. or at the very least that I am secure enough to have somewhere that I feel comfortable resting my head.
What does HOME mean to you and have you found it yet?