Home is where the heart is.
Where is the heart though? Growing up I always thought that this meant your family is your heart and wherever they are is where home is. I took it to mean that you should be happy with your family no matter where you lived or didn’t live. That One can be home as long as you are together.
How are people homeless then?
As a kid I questioned this and I did not understand. If a baby is born because a man and a woman got together and brought him into the world then how can he grow up and end up on the street with no “home.” I could not comprehend that someone could not have a family. I did not have a very large family. My immediate family consisted of my mother, father, myself, and my two younger sisters. I remember thinking how mad would I have to be that I would be unable to ask my family for help.
Or would my entire family have to die for me to become alone?
How does someone become homeless?
Where is their family and friends?
These were my thoughts as a child.
I am no longer a child and I thank God for my thoughts then but I appreciate that as my body has grown and changed so have my thoughts. As a child I understood that One did not need a physical house to have a home but what I could not comprehend was how on earth, how did one become homeless? I looked up the definition and “living on the streets” was included in the definition.
Do you have to be living on the streets to be homeless?
One can have a home but be living on the streets.
So where is home?
The saying is “Home is where the heart is?”
When I moved away from home, from my family, I realized that family is not the heart. It is not home. This was a tough realization. I went back to visit and found that home did not feel like home. Not because I did not love my family nor because they did not love me but for reasons I did not yet understand.
I was living in Seattle and traveling the world as a flight attendant. A question that people often ask is, “Where is home?” Every time someone would ask me this I had no idea how to answer. I would have to think.
Well I live in Seattle, Washington but is that my home?
I am from Dallas, Texas but is that my home?
Then people started to ask me what place have I been to that feels most like home?
I still could not answer.
I went back to my childhood thoughts but this time I just translated heart as love. Who was I in love with? Well I will not say who but I will say where Houston, Texas. The last person I had given my heart to was in Houston, Texas so surely this must be home. I tried to make it my home. I wanted to believe that I had found the answer. I am sure you can guess that this was not the case.
I moved from Seattle, Washington to Washington D.C. I still had no idea where home was. I knew that if I could figure out where my home was that I could understand how you become homeless. Now I must note that when I moved to Seattle I rented a small room from a married couple. They were great people but I still felt like a guest in their home.
The move to D.C. was to another small room in my friend from high school’s apartment. I still have no home of my own. This concept is something that is difficult to explain to family and friends. Especially since now I can say that I have no intentions to find a place all my own anytime soon. The fact that I am at peace with living out of my one suitcase, whether it be on a futon in my friend’s house or a couch in a friend of a friends or the floor at a stranger’s house.
You see I finally found home. It is literally where the heart is. Home is within. When you are at peace within that is when you are home. People who are homeless and living on the streets are no different than those who have a house and are homeless, they have not found the peace within.
Everything above was written on 9–16–15.
I was just too scared until today to post it.
What are your thoughts?
Teach me. Talk to me.
Give me a heart =]