Wednesday, July 25, 2012

Defining Home

Home Sweet Home

I don't know what it is about sleeping in my own bed but after I come back from a long night nothing feels better than crawling in and curling up in my comforter.

And there's something about opening that front door. It's awesome.

It's cause I'm home.

Eventually I'm going to be moving out (I hope soon) and I was just wondering if home is going to feel the same if I'm not in the same house with the same people.

I used to train in Virginia during the summer for figure skating and home, for a month or more, was the Homestead Suites. But when I came back to my Seattle home, the sense of home wasn't the same. It was ten billion times better. Of course, my home here isn't a hotel room.

With Hawai'i it's a different story. Arriving there is a different sense of home; coming home to my ancestors. But I've been on vacation there before and had the pangs of missing my Seattle home. At the time I wanted to deny it because as a Hawai'ian you're supposed to feel truly at home in your homeland. Alas, I figured it out why I felt that way.

What makes my home is my family. The furniture. The smells. The memories. Being home is an experience.

I went to Hawai'i after graduating and I spent the majority of my time with family down there and I did not want to come home. Seriously, I even thought of just not getting on that plane and finding myself a nice little hole to shack up in. It's really easy to be a bum in Hawai'i. Free showers at the beach.

In the end, I'm glad I came home because I need to figure out my future and in Hawai'i my future would have been being at the beach all day.

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