Homeless

Home is a concept I have struggled with for a long time. As a child we moved around a lot. When people meet you for the first time they ask where you're from. I'm not really from anywhere. I'm from everywhere. There are only two states I haven't visited. I have lived in over ten states, and I've never lived anyplace longer than five years. Where is home?

Where will I be burried? Will I be burried with my parents? Will I be burried with my siblings? Will I find someone who will want to spend eternity sleeping next to me? I've decided I don't belong in the ground in one place. I didn't spend my life in one place, I shouldn't spend my death in one place either. Scatter my ashes in the wind and let me rest as I lived.

I have connections to two of my childhood friends. I keep in touch with two people from high school. I talk to one person from college and two people from law school. I recognize that the friends I have right now are the friends I will have for this season, but when the season changes they will be gone.

When I go home for the holidays, I don't go home. I go to see my family. When I go home from work, I don't go home. I go to my house that needs cleaned and organized. When I give my home address, I usually give my office address. So what is home?

I have this idea that most people go home to the house they grew up in and see the friends they grew up with. The walls contain the memories of their childhood. The closets contain the secrets of their youth. The sanctuary of home is not a luxuary I am afforded.

My parents are moving again. I'm over 30. It shouldn't bother me. I haven't lived with them for over ten years. I have no ties or connections to their town. I have no friends I will have to give up when they move. I don't have to start a new school and be the new kid when they move this time. But each time they move it dredges up the same old emotions. It remindes me I have no home.