welcome home

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“At last I know where I’m going, where I’ve always been going. Home. The long way round.”    -The Eleventh Doctor

They say home is where the heart is. Where’s your heart?

Part of mine’s in Connecticut, in the suburb where I grew up and the city that saw my high school years and my first job. On the streets where I learned how to drive and ride my bike, on the front steps where I took pictures for prom.

Part, a large part, will always be in New Rochelle, on the college campus that saw me grow more than I ever expected to. In the dorm rooms and apartments where I made real, lasting friendships and discovered more pieces of who I am, and who I hope to be.

Part is in New York City, which is still one of my favorite places in the world even after the annoying commuter grind and the bombardment of strange sights and smells. There is something about that skyline and the hallowed halls of the Met that I will never, ever tire of.

Part is undoubtedly in Italy, left in bits and pieces in Rome, Orvieto and Florence. I threw it in the canals of Venice and gave it gladly to Assisi and Sorrento.

Another part sits in Regent’s Park and travels throughout London on a whim. It visits the pub around the block from my study abroad dorm and takes frequent trips to the Globe, lingering by the Thames.

I left pieces in the voodoo shop in New Orleans where I had my Tarot cards read and at Navy Pier in Chicago. It’s in Cape Cod, on the only beach I care to visit there, with some of the best memories and the best people I’ve ever known. It’s in Brooklyn somewhere near 86th street.

It’s scattered along the east coast. It was forgotten on a variety of planes and trains and was left in the backseat of a mess of cabs and friends’ cars. It’s in a bunch of books and poems, with fictional people in imaginary places.

It’s with everyone I’ve ever loved, wherever we were and wherever they go. It’s with you, reading this, whoever you are.

Home is all of those places, and none of them. It’s wherever I’ve been and wherever I’m going. Home is everywhere, and it’s a beautiful place to be.

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