Home is...

Freshman year of college. Home was a sterile little dorm room shared with new dear friend. We had a cold tile floor and permanent wood furniture. Plus matching denim comforters and bright flowered sheets. Our suite mate would chemically straighten her hair in our shared bathroom and then wash her dishes in our bathtub. It was dingy and weird, but it was home.

Sophomore year of college was spent in the sorority dorm with my newly solidified friends. We were thrilled to actually have friends and to be over the unavoidable awkwardness of freshman year. Hence, we celebrated and ate our way through the year. 10 sophomore swollen pounds later, Auburn felt like home.

Junior and senior year I hit my stride. Home was 8 girls crammed into a pre-war house on Gay street. Big rooms for living, a sprawling porch for watching, and a tiny galley kitchen that worked best when crowded. This isn't to say that everything was lovely and rose colored the whole time. No. We dealt with life, break ups and sickness. But this house was our little sanctuary right off campus. It was much more than a house. It was our home.

Post college. I shared a one bedroom apartment on the upper east side with a friend from Auburn. We lived above a bagel shop, had the occasional visiting mouse and loved our super Ricardo, who lived upstairs. Nice, as it was, I don't know that I was myself that year. Adjusting to New York and the working world was a lot for me. Even though I didn't feel at home this year, the experience was necessary. How else would I mark the grandness that was (and is) to come?

Now. I've lived on the upper west side with three dear roommates for the past year and a half.
Seems like a dream. Our quirky old apartment is fit with maids quarters and swinging doors for the butlers.We adore our Yugoslovian super Joe and his helper Zoran even if they can't get rid of our mice.There are trees and families and views of the river when you crain your head just far enough out the window.

I feel like myself here. This is my home.

For now.

I should tell you that I have a trickling and hopeful feeling that home may look very different next year. But, for now, I am quite content.


I like writing about home. Has to be good for your soul, right? It's part of a Blog Carnival going on! Enjoy.