I travel a ton, but usually I never miss home. I miss a few of my family, but not really my mother’s and definitely not my father’s home. Ever since my last year in college, I have not slept in a bed within either of those homes. I have continually stated with my sunshine (my cousin if you all don’t know that). We are like two peas in a pod first off, but secondly, she is my closet family member. No matter what happens, she’s the first person I call. Even when I travel, I always make sure I call Sunshine to check in.
Regardless, I guess home doesn’t feel like home for me. I am a product of a divorced family and have literally been living out of a suitcase since I was 10. It’s pretty sad to say that my whole life was in one small bag, but it was. So when I travel, my whole life is still in the bag. The saying “home is where the heart is” could not be more true for me. My home lies within my closest friends and family. I could live with my home disappearing, but I could never live without my rocks, both big and small. They mean more than they know to me. I would do anything for them without thinking twice. I feel most at home with those people and that’s how it will always be. So, here’s to my parents forcing me to live my life out of a suitcase and to the great friends and family I have that make me feel at home.