photo credit: Eduardo Garcia-Ramirez
College is weird in the way it defines home. When you’re at school and you tell people you’re going “home” for the weekend, you obviously mean that place you grew up and where your parents still have their lives (believe it or not). But two days later, your roommate calls while you’re kickin it with the folks and you tell her, “I’ll be home Sunday afternoon.” And -poof- “home” now means your cozy little apartment at school with your lofted bed and the magic of having all your best friends for neighbors. It’s a weird phenomenon really, but I realize whichever place I’m not – that’s what I call home.
I move “home” this Thursday. I can’t wait.