Having moved around some countries and some states in the United States, my definition of home has been loosened up.
Vietnam, where I were born and grew up, where most of my family is, and where I spent a quarter of life, yet I have always considered the States more like home to me. Perhaps, because there is so much that has happened here. Perhaps, because people here know me and I know people enough. Perhaps, because it is where I am at the present. Perhaps, because I can be raw and be myself here. Then home is more than where we were born, where our family is, and where we spend much time at.
Boston, where I had a really good time at, where I worked so hard for my study, yet California is where I tend to be drawn to. It is the place where I have stumbled and thrived, where I have got both scars and love, where I am immersed into the fun and the nature, and where I have cultivated trust and sharpened my identity. To California, a love that has been challenged.
To some people, home might not be a physical place but an imaginative concept. Home is where their friends are and their friends are mostly on the internet. People who truly know them are also just online. And for some people, they make it home wherever they go to.
All in all, home is where we make memories out of and where people who matter to us are at. Home is when you close your eyes, that place is there. Home is where even if you are not there still think of. Home is normal and familiar. Home is where daily activities happen. Home is constant regardless of changes. We might consider many places home. Home is at the center of our heart. Home is where we know it is for us.
“Welcome home if it is home” — From a flight attendant.
