If you know me even a little, you are probably familiar with my anxious tendencies and my relationship with Murphy's Law. You may also be somewhat acquainted with my math skills (or lack thereof). Where an I going with this might you ask? Well, take a looksie at this here equation of doom:
Taylor + late Megabus - weather appropriate clothing - lack of arm and seat room + motionsickness = highly neurotic and ridiculously overreactive situation.
Doom and gloom I tell you!
Not necessarily, but I am pretty uncomfortable in only the first 15 minutes of my journey back to Beantown. Thus said, and my neurosis documented, I now present the ramblings of a 19-year-old with relatively mild insomnia. AKA the uncensored version of my nightly thoughts.
Home. Not a house, but a home. The majority of us understand this concept from the time we are wee ones, but defining the word in plain 'ol english is sometimes an interesting task. Sitting in the double-decker section of this dimly lit bus, the concept of home has never been clearer. Home is wherever you feel loved. You may not have a bed to sleep in, but if you have a hand to hold or arms waiting to hug you, you have a home.
Over the past year, I've discovered many homes. One, the most obvious, is my parents' house in my sleepy little town of Rollinsford. Roughly half of my life has now been spent in this town and community, and heading back to my Early clan is never an unfamiliar feeling.
Secondly, I've found a home in Brandeis. I have spent the last few months battling my own demons as well as the ones Deis has thrown at me, and although I don't always win, my heart can always find a reason to smile when I'm in Waltham. Most of that has to do with my friends, my sisters and the wonderful people I've met through the Environmental Studies department, but I'm not going to be picky about where my heart wants to hang out.
My third home is a bit mobile. Those of you with significant others will probably understand this home well. This home splits its time between New Hampshire and currently Pennsylvania, and it's the home I'm on a bus leaving. My heart always finds a home in PJ's, and I'm so thankful that his heart finds a home in mine as well.
I think this kind of home applies to friendships as well; love is pretty enveloping like that. Have you ever had the kind of friendship that feels like no time has passed between the last time you and your friend were together? You're home, whether you know it or not, when you're with the ones you love and care about. Houses are full of things, homes are full of love. It's as simple as that.
Enough for now, the motion sickness is beginning to play games with my mind. If you're up right now too, take some time to count how many homes you have and wrap yourself in all that love.
Live simply.
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