Home is Not a Place

Home is a feeling.

Home is the precious tranquility that overcomes your mind when you feel entirely comfortable with your surroundings. It is the breath of fresh air you feel when you can rest peacefully without anyone to impress. It is the simultaneous silence and symphony inside the brain that allows you to escape the arduous demands of reality.

Home is a memory.

It is the desperate longing and nostalgia for the person you once were, the friends you once had, the songs you once loved, and the love you once lost. It’s the melancholic endeavor to grasp a memory that no longer exists. It is the vicious ache in your heart and in your mind to return to another moment in time.

Home is a person.

It is the intertwining of the delicate hands of another with your own. It is the soothing sentiment of another’s voice saying, “Everything will be alright.” It’s that feeling of ethereality, that feeling that anything is possible. It is rolling over upon awaking from slumber and seeing the most beautiful creature in the world lying next to you.

Home is music.

It is the melody you hum repeatedly through your unconscious mind. It is the one tune you can listen to continuously and fall in love over and over again. It is the band that you follow around again and again. It is the song that springs nostalgia and passion within you that enlightens your soul.

Home is not a place. It is time travel; it is an amalgamation of people. It’s a poetic mystery, a friend, a fascination. Home is the past, the present, and the future. It is the warm embrace of a partner. It is your dream, but it is also your reality.