When I was born, I was a source of joy. My mom had me as a teen outside of wedlock, so we lived with my grandparents and her brothers. I was constantly surrounded by people who loved me and supported both myself and my mom. The women in the church doted on me; the pastor laughed as how much hair I had on my head as he was mostly bald; my uncle’s were fiercely protective of me. We lived in that home until I was 3, and moved 4 times before I was 6.

When I was 6 years old, my mom married my step-dad (who I call my dad). I was in the wedding as a “Junior Bridesmaid”. During the ceremony, my dad got down on one knee and said vows to me as his daughter. He vowed to always be my dad and other mushy stuff like helping me study and beating up boys who hurt me. He then gave me a heart-shaped locket that said “Love Daddy” on the back. As a 6-year-old, I was not able to appreciate this at all, but I now recognize this as a wonderfully sweet gesture, and the utmost truth. This was the beginning of my home.

When I was about 11 years old, my youngest brother burnt his arm really badly when he pulled down a cup of hot water on himself. We had specific bandages and tape in the house so we could keep his wounds clean. The tape was very translucent and wouldn’t pull the skin when removing, which was really important when trying to bandage a one-year-old. My dad and I taped my middle brother’s face up, so his nose was squished to the right side and the left side of his face was pressed together, making him look like he’d smashed his face into the wall and it was now stuck like that. We then told him to run and hug mom. When my mom saw his face she started screaming and crying because she didn’t see the tape. My dad and I fell on the floor, laughing so hard. She wasn’t happy at first, but ended up laughing. We all just laughed, and still to this day when we see the pictures or bring it up we can’t help but cry with laughter.

When I was 19 years old, I left home and moved to France to be a fille au pair (a nanny). When I returned after a year and a half, my parents had divorced and I had a new house, for the 15th time in my life. I returned to what many would call a “broken” home, with my brothers going back and forth between parents. We still laugh, but rarely as hard or for as long.

When I was 24 years old, I ran my first half marathon. I (barely and inefficiently) trained for months. As I was running, there were many times that I felt defeated and that I didn’t want to continue. I pressed on. In my last 1km, I saw a familiar face smiling at me, that of my trainer and amazing friend Meghan. I knew I was almost at the end and that I would be able to make it. When I passed the finish line, I felt such relief. I looked around and my dad’s face caught my eye. I burst into tears, and am even crying remembering this moment as I type. He was there for me, encouraging me and advising me as I trained; he was there supporting me as I finished a major goal of mine. I ran to him and fell into his arms and just cried, so happy to see him and have him be a part of this day.

When I was 25 years old, I moved to Australia for 4 months. Home was non-existant for those 4 months. I lived in a van, in an apartment, in a hostel, on a mattress in my friend’s living room. I did not have a dresser. I did not have my own sheets. I did not have my clay pot that I cook with. I did not have a David’s Tea mugs or the tea. I did not have comfort. But I did have friends. I did have joy. I did have adventure. I did have support, both from those there and those here. I did have laughter.

In the end, laughter is all that I need.

Works Cited

Caitlin Funk. “I seriously love art.” Instagram, Dec 2014. Photograph. 30 Jan 2015.

Caitlin Funk. “Maybe we look more alike.” Instagram, Dec 2014. Photograph. 30 Jan 2015.

Caitlin Funk. “These two.” Instagram, Dec 2014. Photograph. 30 Jan 2015.

Caitlin Funk. “Well that happened.” Instagram, Aug 2014. Photograph. 30 Jan 2015.