Home is Where the Heart is

The date was January 1, 2016 when we landed in cold California. The climate was nothing compared to Long Island, but it was not beach weather either. For the next twenty days, The Residence Inn would be what we call home.

Nothing can prepare you for the moment of realization that you moved. Nothing. To this day, I think I’m still in denial.

What is home to you? Is it a place you feel most relaxed at? Where you have your personal belongings? Where you have a toothbrush? What is it?

I’ve used the word for more than one place. I refer to my dorm room as home. I’ve referred to California, New York and even my new house as home. I’ve even said to my boyfriend, “see you at home later,” in reference to his house.

Before I moved, I always just referred to my old house as my home. That was the only place I knew to be home. Now it’s home to a young couple and their dog. (My mom never let us have a dog, so it’s so strange to imagine a dog living in my old house.)

Home is where the heart is. That phrase works in simple and complex situations. My heart will always be in New York, but my heart can also be in California and my dorm room in Orchard Hall. Even that Residence Inn that we spent 20 days in feels like home.

I never thought that home could or even would be more than one place for me.

I think “where the heart is” is wherever you have great love and memories. Even long after you move, those memories will always be there.

You can take the girl out of the house, but you can’t take the home out of the house. That’s not how that phrase goes, but it will do for now.