Feels Like Home

For some people, home is a singular place—a house with familiar walls and a yard that watched them grow up. For me, it’s never been that simple. Growing up, I lived in nine different houses, and since starting college, I’ve called seven different places “home.” But here’s the thing: home has never been about a zip code or an address. For me, home has always been a feeling.

I’ll be honest—moving my entire life a couple of times a year gets exhausting. The constant process of sorting, packing, and reorganizing has made me question what “home” really means. If it’s not a permanent place or a structure to settle into, then what is it? Over the years, I’ve realized that home is less about where I am and more about what I bring with me.

Home is the familiar habits and small comforts I recreate wherever I go. It's my baby blanket I always bring that's as old as I am, or the photos and knick-knacks that anchor me. Home is the scent of my favorite candle that can turn a sterile new apartment into something that feels warm and lived in.

More than anything, home is tied to people. It’s the feeling of belonging and ease that comes when I’m with the right company. Whether it’s binge-watching our favorite show with my best friends in a tiny college dorm or gathering around the kitchen table with my family, home is in those moments of connection. It’s the laughs we share and the comfort of being truly seen and understood. Even when the places around me have changed, those relationships have been my constant—a reminder that home can be built with the people who make you feel grounded, even when life feels chaotic.

In a world where change is inevitable, I’ve learned that home doesn’t have to be a fixed point on a map. It’s something you carry with you—a blend of memories, emotions, and the people who make life feel grounded, no matter where you are.