Homeward bound
Keeping one foot on sand, but swimming out a little further
Monday will be the first time I’m going home in nearly a full year. Granted, I was home during May for about four days, but that doesn’t come close to touching my usual three-month hiatus/refresher/break.
It’s a little weird thinking that I’ll be back again in my hometown, my supposed “natural habitat”. It’s been almost too long, I’d say. The period of time has been so extended, in fact, that the thought of being home feels almost foreign to me.
I’ve hit that transformation where things feel like they’re just inconvenient enough having to extract myself from my usual habits, and submerging myself in something that doesn’t feel quite right. I feel like I should know where everything is and how to behave — like it’s a second nature to me. Usually I tell myself that it’s something that will always come back to me, even though I’ve become something, well, different.
I am undoubtedly a different breed of a person than when I was last home a year ago, or even just a few months ago in May. I’ve grown in so many ways, both for better and worse. But never in my life have I ever felt more at ease with myself or comfortable in my own skin, or for that matter, so happy and excited to be living my life.
I used to hold myself back from enjoying myself, really experiencing things, and being willing to try something new. Even though I was independent and open minded, I think my time before college was marked with this level of reserve that made me enjoy my experience less than I possibly could have.
Seeing this change in myself is a little unnerving, but it also makes me appreciative of who I’ve become. I’m happy with who I am now, and I wouldn’t go back to being my old self even if I wanted to.
In the past I would always think about going home as a sort of grounding experience that I would always look forward to. Now, I feel like I was naive, clinging on to the past and holding myself back from seeing the true potential of my new world.
Is it fair for me to say that I feel like I’ve outgrown my old world? That I look back on it with a hint of sadness and frustration for letting myself miss out on so many things?
Even then, I think it’s important to remember that home is home, that ultimately it is somewhere that I can let loose and really be myself. Home reminds me of who I really am, and it reminds me of the foundations of what I have become today. Without my home, no matter how small it is, I wouldn’t be me.
