Tuesday, September 06, 2005
Transition
Exactly four years and 3 months ago I was assigned for my final high school paper to ask myself and answer to the best of my ability what is home. Now, four years later, I find myself in a very similar situation of change and transition and once again have been thinking about this a lot. Here's what I came up with.
HOME n.
A place where one lives; a residence.
A dwelling place together with the family or social unit that occupies it; a household.
An environment offering security and happiness.
A valued place regarded as a refuge or place of origin.
The place, such as a country or town, where one was born or has lived for a long period.
The native habitat, as of a plant or animal.
?
I turned over and kicked the sheets off. Rolling over on my right, I pulled the sheets back over my body. Tossing onto my stomach, followed by a frustrated hmph, I accepted that sleep was futile. I turned to the blinking alarm clock that read 3:09 a.m. Night was ever so slowly turning into morning. Only six minutes had passed since the last time I had looked at the clock. It had been a long six minutes. I was lying in the bed I had slept in for 5 years, in the room I had grown up in, in the house in which I became an adult. Yet, it felt as foreign as a hotel room or a night stop.
Its a really discomforting feeling when you realize that home is no longer the twin bed you slept every night for 15 years, the yard you played in or the table you ate countless meals at. Homeless.
Home at one point was
Hot chocolate chip cookies with a big glass of milk.
It was staying up late, giggling under the covers far past lights out time.
It was cramming four people in an extra long twin bed your freshman year of college.
It was ten bodies lying across a floor in a dorm room with a make-shift fort over head.
It was five people standing around in a kitchen big enough for two, eating cereal, leftovers, cookies, ice cream or whatever was available.
It was seven people, ranging from naked to completely clothed, squeezed in a shower.
It was waking up in the morning next to a person you love, listening to the rhythm of his/her breathing and realizing that there is no where you'd rather be.
Home was 231 Oxford Ave.
32 Lockwood Pl.
and 209 College Ave.
It was 11 Camp Rd., 301 Wilson House and an apartment on the 29th floor on 56th between Broadway and 8th.
Transition. In defining and creating home you must answer a what question and not a where. Yes, home is place where one lives, a residence, but it is so much more than that. You must constantly ask yourself if this physical structure is a place that you want to go to at the end of the day. A place where you where you don't have to pretend or put up a guard. It may be a place you can yell, walk around naked, or sing loudly. And what we look for in home changes. Once upon a time it may have been a bedtime story and a big teddy bear named Max Sir Peaks.
Since May 31st I have slept in over 20 beds in Wellsely, Weston, New Jersey, New York City to Chicago. No where has been a place I consider home. Homeless, Transition, Insanity- whatever you want to call it. This year 'home' will be somewhere in Peru. I don't know what it is exactly I am looking for or trying to create but I am going to try to find out- via experience. Its scary as hell, but its also really, really exciting.
HOME n.
A place where one lives; a residence.
A dwelling place together with the family or social unit that occupies it; a household.
An environment offering security and happiness.
A valued place regarded as a refuge or place of origin.
The place, such as a country or town, where one was born or has lived for a long period.
The native habitat, as of a plant or animal.
?
I turned over and kicked the sheets off. Rolling over on my right, I pulled the sheets back over my body. Tossing onto my stomach, followed by a frustrated hmph, I accepted that sleep was futile. I turned to the blinking alarm clock that read 3:09 a.m. Night was ever so slowly turning into morning. Only six minutes had passed since the last time I had looked at the clock. It had been a long six minutes. I was lying in the bed I had slept in for 5 years, in the room I had grown up in, in the house in which I became an adult. Yet, it felt as foreign as a hotel room or a night stop.
Its a really discomforting feeling when you realize that home is no longer the twin bed you slept every night for 15 years, the yard you played in or the table you ate countless meals at. Homeless.
Home at one point was
Hot chocolate chip cookies with a big glass of milk.
It was staying up late, giggling under the covers far past lights out time.
It was cramming four people in an extra long twin bed your freshman year of college.
It was ten bodies lying across a floor in a dorm room with a make-shift fort over head.
It was five people standing around in a kitchen big enough for two, eating cereal, leftovers, cookies, ice cream or whatever was available.
It was seven people, ranging from naked to completely clothed, squeezed in a shower.
It was waking up in the morning next to a person you love, listening to the rhythm of his/her breathing and realizing that there is no where you'd rather be.
Home was 231 Oxford Ave.
32 Lockwood Pl.
and 209 College Ave.
It was 11 Camp Rd., 301 Wilson House and an apartment on the 29th floor on 56th between Broadway and 8th.
Transition. In defining and creating home you must answer a what question and not a where. Yes, home is place where one lives, a residence, but it is so much more than that. You must constantly ask yourself if this physical structure is a place that you want to go to at the end of the day. A place where you where you don't have to pretend or put up a guard. It may be a place you can yell, walk around naked, or sing loudly. And what we look for in home changes. Once upon a time it may have been a bedtime story and a big teddy bear named Max Sir Peaks.
Since May 31st I have slept in over 20 beds in Wellsely, Weston, New Jersey, New York City to Chicago. No where has been a place I consider home. Homeless, Transition, Insanity- whatever you want to call it. This year 'home' will be somewhere in Peru. I don't know what it is exactly I am looking for or trying to create but I am going to try to find out- via experience. Its scary as hell, but its also really, really exciting.
// posted by Becca @ 7:01 PM 
