Most people call home, the place where they currently live. I don’t, though. In fact, most of the time when I talk about the place I live, I say, “I am at my place.” I never say, “I am at home.” Because to me, it is not home. It’s just a place where I sleep at night, then leave the next morning for a busy work day.
Almost three years ago, I moved up North near Seattle. I didn’t want to go. I was only there because I had to be.
I never wanted to live in the city. It’s too busy and stresses me out. There are cars and people everywhere. It’s always go, go, go. How was I suppose to call this place home?
So, I never have.
Right now… I am home. I am sitting in an open field with trees around me. I hear the birds singing away and the wind blowing my hair across my face. It is still. It is calm. It is peaceful. It is home.
My heart races every time I get to drive back here. My three hour drive is like a countdown. One second, one minute, one hour, one mile, closer to being home. Closer to being in my happy place.
You see, I am a country girl at heart; which surprises a lot of people. I like to think I got it from my Great Grandparents. They use to have land and horses. But, I don’t know.
I am simple. I don’t need or want material things. I just want the pain to stop. When I am here, it’s like I can breathe again. It’s when I know everything will be okay.
Home, should be a place I look forward to returning to after a long work day. Home, should be a place where I feel safe. Home, should be a place where honesty is allowed and trust is built. Home, should be a home; where laughter is contagious, wounds could be healed, and love is unconditional.
Maybe one day, I will be able to return back here for good. Until then, I will soak up every second of my time here and be grateful I have this place to call home.