What Home Is
December 24, 2002

RANT #161: Misc.
captainapathy
 
Summary: An essay written while on a plane back from Ottawa. I was mildly depressed.
 
Full Text:

 
Home is where the heart is, which is why so many people can never truly feel at home anywhere. Their hearts have been parceled away to everyone they've ever loved, everywhere they've ever been, and every place they've ever dreamed. My personal home is torn between the place where I grew up and the place I choose to live. Ottawa, the place of my birth, holds many of the people I hold dear. Yet when I last returned, it was if I had stepped into a carbon copy of the place I love, Imperfect in feeling only. I felt a visitor to an alien planet, and now I know the home I cherish will never be there again. Yet even in my new home in vancouver, I feel like a tourist who's been visiting for a while, but still finds things kept at an arm's length. Moving with my partner to our new apartment and my job help, but my heart still feels the abscence of the familiar. As time goes on the pain will lessen and dull, but pangs of memory and visits home will send the fire of loss scattering across my soul. Additions will be made, and a home for me will come again, in time.
 


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