I have been contemplating the meaning of home this past week. Six days ago I landed in California. This is my forth day in San Diego, a place that once upon a time was home. What makes the place where I currently reside feel like home? What made this place feel like home at one point in time? What makes something no longer feel like home? I don’t know that I can fully answer any of these questions, but they have been knocking around in my head a lot, especially these last two days. I think home is a place where we feel safe enough to be exactly who we are. Home is a place that nourishes our minds, bodies, and souls. Home is a place where there is love. Home is a place where we know the shit can hit the fan, and probably will, but things will still be okay in the long run. Home feels like home.

I was never quite sure what my stance was on the saying, you can’t go home again was. Now I am certain, you can’t go home again. What I remember of home as changed. The neighborhood I lived in has drastically changed. The home I used to live in has been painted a different color. The people I love remain, but our relationships have changed, this happens even when you live in the same city. What was home is only a memory, and even that has morphed into what I want or need it to be, it may or may not be what actually was. I have revisited the places and people I know. What I remember remains in tact, but how I feel and how I view things has shifted. It is hard to integrate this newness. Sometimes what we remember is what we need to hold onto to allow our present selves to be as they are. I have been forced to look at what I was holding onto and why I was holding onto those things. What purpose were they serving? And what do I do now that I realize the only thing that stays the same is change, even when dealing with something as intimate as home?

It is hard for me to acknowledge what I have let go of, moved on from. And yet, had I not let go of these things I would not be the person I am today. I would not be doing the things I am doing today. And I would not have some of the people in my life that currently create what is home for me. I am not filled with any regrets. I needed everything I let go of at one point in time and those are the things, the people, who have shaped who I am today. I am more sad at what I had to let go of in order to grow. Letting go, moving on, these things are not easy for me, no matter how necessary. Coming face to face with who I was and who I am is a little unsettling. I am however very grateful that this was once home and that I now have a new home that feels like, well, home.


About djunapassman

I teach yoga, write, and edit. I live in a Brooklyn neighborhood that is changing faster than I can, or care to, keep up with. Manhattan still beckons me to her island a few subways stops away, reminding me of when I lived amongst her daily hustle and bustle.
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