Have you ever imagined leaving your home? What is home? Is it a physical location? I always thought my home was in the Bay Area. Home is where we are born and raised, right?
It’s where I had my first kiss, in the driveway across the street from my house, behind our neighbor’s truck with a boy named Jesse. He had a bowl cut. It’s where I slammed pogs onto the concrete sidewalk while kids rode by on their BMX bikes hauling friends on their pegs. Home was mom and dad. Until it wasn’t.
Home was the place I ran away from as a teenager, trying to discover who I was but only to find myself more lost than before. It was where I broke hearts and where I endured the most heartache. It’s where my family and I made ourselves, only to become the place where it all fell apart. Home was mom and dad, and then it wasn’t. Then it became just me. Just mom. Just dad.
Home was where I started using. It’s where I battled me and only me over and over, and when I thought the battle was done…
It’s where I was rushed to emergency. Twice. It’s where I had to save myself because no one else was going to do it for me. Home was where I met the person who would be my forever. It’s where I learned it’s not always all about me. It’s where I learned compassion and forgiveness. It’s where I learned to receive it back. Home was where my daughter was born.
Home was where I began to think, where is home?
In 2020, my family and I moved from the west coast to the east coast. We moved away from family and friends. We left to build a comfortable life for ourselves. We left “home” for a new home. I have come to realize that home resides deep within and I’m reminded by Ernest Hemingway, “You can’t get away from yourself by moving from one place to another.”
Home is where you cannot and will not escape yourself. It’s deep within and therefore can be anywhere and nowhere. It’s where we choose to love, to make peace. So the next time you miss home, look within yourself because you’ve been there all along.
Thanks for tuning in dear reader,
I am Sterp. I write dark fiction and have a very unhealthy obsession with disturbing narratives. I am the author of The Cult Called Freedom House: Sophia Rey Book One. My short story The Lost Tea Cup is in Issue 26 of The Literary Hatchet. I am also a painter.
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