Writing challenge: April 14, 2018
Prompt: What place do your consider home?
“I want to go home” I moan while lying on my bed, wrapped in my blankets, with my face buried in my pillow. Physically, I am home. I am currently within my place of residence, but mentally, emotionally, I’m not at home at all.
Home isn’t a physical space. Perhaps I feel that way because I moved nearly every year of my life, but I am not attached to physical spaces as much as I am attached to a state of being. Home, home is a feeling.
Home is when I feel safe, secure, and stable. Home is the feeling of belonging, confidence, and warmth. Home is peace and happiness, and all the other elusive unicorn-emotions expressed on Hallmark cards.
Home is a nostalgic concept of past happiness. It’s around the dinner table at Thanksgiving. It’s in a basement living-room with friends. It’s in an old car on an empty highway with the radio one, and it’s wrapped in a blanket, on a bed, hiding from the stress of work and school.