As citizens of the world, we rarely stay in one place for our entire lives. Most of us move away from the place we were born at least once. As the 20-something nomad that I am, I’m often thinking about what the word “home” means to me. Home is usually a place; country lines or a physical place where all of your belongings are. But at 22 years old, and having lived pretty much all over the place. If you were to ask me where my home is, I would have a hard time explaining it.
Yes, home right now is a cozy little apartment, which I share with one of my best friends. Home is inside this blue house and this small community where I’ve met the most wonderful people from around the world. Home is where I enjoy one too many glasses of Malbec while I binge on Netflix. But this really isn’t my only home.
Home is Guatemala City, Guatemala; the place where I was born and where I grew up. Home is my dad and his quirky habits. Home is my mom who I miss every single day. Home is my brother, who keeps me grounded. Home is my little daschund, Missy, who has most likely replaced me as the favorite daughter. Home is seeing clear blue skies, green mountains and colorful flowers. Home is my childhood friends and even though we might be scattered all throughout part of the globe, once in a while we all get to see each other and reminisce on the good ‘ol days.
Home is San Antonio, Texas; where I went to college. Home is where I went from being a somewhat reckless 17-year-old girl to a well-rounded 21year old woman. Home is where I fell in love with the country of Texas, because let’s face it, it kinda is like a country. Home is where I first went to the rodeo and became a fan of country music. Home is where I became curious and developed a thirst for never settling. Home is where I learned and did things I would eventually regret. Home is the place where I met the people who became my family.
Home is Barcelona, Spain; where I truly learned the meaning of independence. Exploring a continent, getting to know this fascinating city, getting lost on the Metro, meeting people, having deep conversations with utter strangers; and I did it all pretty much by myself. Though I won’t be going back for a while, Barcelona is a sort of place that stays with you wherever you go. Barcelona is home.
Home is now New Orleans, LA; I would dare and say that this city is the heart of this country. The culture, the food, the people, the good vibes; New Orleans is a place where you instantly feel at home. It’s the kind of place where you truly feel alive. Wherever life takes me, New Orleans will always be home.
Home are endless phone calls to Los Angeles. Home is reuniting with my best friends; whether in Houston, Miami, Punta Cana or Tegucigalpa. Home is a feeling. Home are the people you love. Home are the people that love you back. Home is where you will never be afraid of just being yourself.