Home

Got to make an ER visit for the first time in a few years - it actually wasn't that bad. Until we get the bill, that is.

As you undoubtedly know (because you're awesome), it's Friday.

This means, as you've already predicted (because you're amazing), that I'm doing a Five Minute Friday post.

And thus, I must share with you the three simple rules that accompany this endeavor, via The Gypsy Mama.

Rule 1 - Write for 5 minutes. No more, no less. And no editing, backtracking, or any other sort of nonsense!
Rule 2 - Link back to The Gypsy Mama and invite others to join (that means YOU!).
Rule 3 - Leave some comment love for the 5 minuter who linked up before you!

Today's prompt?

Home

Ready... Set... Go!

The word "home" evokes a lot for me. For instance, I was born in Oceanside, California. However, I've never been there. And my parents (gotta love 'em!) didn't even know the correct city that I could call my "hometown" until I was 13 and we took a look at my birth certificate!

I also have a place that I used to call home for 12 years of my life. It was a small, 3 bedroom house, with 5 of us living in it, and many others occupying space most of the time. It was a tumultuous time in life, but it was fun.

Then we moved up in the world and moved next door. No lie. But it was a huge improvement. The basement was finished, and there were 4 bedrooms, which doesn't sound like a lot more than 3, but it is if you have the basement bedroom, and therefore, the basement, all to yourself. I loved that as a teenager, even if I see how it allowed me to distance myself from my family when I was younger.

Now, at 21, I don't know where to call "home." When we went to the ER two nights ago, they asked where we lived, and I am never quite sure how to answer that question. We are living with one of Kalyn's cousin's (who is awesome for letting us stay here!), but I often list my mom's address for my address in Wichita. Meanwhile, we also have an apartment in Manhattan, so do we call that "home"? Or is it where we are now?

An old adage says "home is where the heart is," which makes me realize something. My home has nothing to do with a street address or house, or how many bedrooms are in my house. It has everything to do with where my heart is, and right now, it's in a million places at once. So for now, this life, this place, and this house... This is my temporary home. 

STOP!

(I have to admit, I went over my 5 minutes. Barely. But only because I wanted to talk to my wife for a moment!) 

Do you know where your "home" is? What does the word "home" evoke for you? I'd love to hear from you about this (or anything else!) in a comment or an e-mail!