Months ago, I sat with one of my greatest friends /roommate in our cozy apartment. We were at the table talking about everything and nothing. We talked about life, love, family, business (a lot) as well as our plans for the future. As we discussed about the places and countries we’ve been to (not for vacation) we both realized that we have changed “homes” more times than we had thought we would. We laughed about how we both (separately) met people along the journey that we became close to only to find out we had to move for various reasons but mainly studies. We both agreed that it has become more difficult to make a permanent residence out of a place. I’m currently in a different state and she has also moved to another state. I’m glad we developed a sisterhood way early because distance and time has a way of breaking bonds.
I have grown to stop using the word “home” lightly that I almost feel I’m overthinking about this but hear me out. When I was younger, “home” meant my parent’s house, during vacation it meant whoever’s house I was staying in, as I grew up it meant a dorm room, then a house, an apartment, a city, a country etc. It had become harder and harder to answer “Where is home?” Sometimes it’s Rwanda, other times it’s Burundi or Congo (wherever my parents are at that moment) and sometimes it is me.
I recently came across this post by Brittany Josephina who wrote:
Pay attention to the people you shrink in front of. Take note of spaces that feel uncomfortable displaying your truths in. I don’t know if you’ve been told this before but you are allowed to solely put yourself in spaces that facilitate your blooming. Not seeing me is a choice and I choose not to exist where I am unseen.
Every now and then I read something that takes me to a whole other level and it helps me understand myself and the people around me better. To me, Home has become any place or person that makes me feel free to be fully and wholly myself and that is not always a house, it’s not always where you spend most of your time at (although it should be), it’s not always around family or friends, sometimes it is me, within me I can find a Home: A place inside of me where I can be still and enjoy my time. He also feels like home to me and so does a couple of my friends. Home can also be a place and for me it’s anywhere with lights, sunset, or simply nature at its purest form.
One time I’ve called a place home only to find that when I am there I feel trapped, I have to be careful what I say or do, it was disappointing. I’ve decided to be more careful about who and what I call Home because it is sacred and it has a lot of “me” in it, the whole “me”, that is. I would like for you to think about this for yourself, take your time.
Now tell me,
Where is home?
Who is home?
What is home?
2 thoughts on “Where is Home? Who is Home?”
that reminds me 2 songs…””Coupe decale: amii ooooh le monde est maison et le ciel est mon toit.””chris brown.&Elvis presley.:’home is where the heart is.”
so wherever u fit is ur home..a place being called home its a matter of feelings …but still there is somewhere where there are our roots and that somewhere will mostly be called Home..coz most of the times it’s in that somewhere that u feel so alive.otherwise ntaho twimiriwe..
Idealistically Home should be where we come from but sometimes it’s not and so I choose to make a home out of a place that allows me to be fully and wholly myself. The post was focused on the fact that the idea of “home” has changed for me over the years so it has become more complex.