I find it really hard to talk about the concept of “home”.

This isn’t necessarily because living at home has been a bad experience for me; it’s been wonderful. However, I feel like the concept of “home” is so ambiguous. Growing up I lived in two different homes. My first home was in a friendly neighbourhood next to all of my childhood friends. It was a great home with a big backyard, a trampoline and friendly neighbours, but eventually we moved. This was frightening for me as a child; moving my entire life into an unfamiliar place with unexplored corners was absolutely devastating. Yet, like my mom explained to me, this new house would soon become my home and it would feel just as warm and welcoming as the house before. The backyard was smaller, but it was big enough to fit our trampoline. There weren’t as many children around to play with, but my brother and I became closer to the two children that lived next door than we had ever been with our many friends and neighbours before. Nothing was the same, everything was new, but eventually that house became my home too.

When I left for university after graduation I had to say goodbye to my home once again. I packed up all of my belongings, said my goodbyes to all of my friends and family, and I moved into unfamiliar territory. I didn’t have any old friends to keep me company, I didn’t have my mother to reassure me that everything would be alright, and I didn’t even have the same bed that had given me so much comfort throughout the years (which I had always had despite any move). This time, I was completely alone. I had my suitcase, my computer and a mind full of pessimism. However, over the months I somehow found a way to grow attached to this little unfamiliar space with unfamiliar people and communal bathrooms (believe me, the lack of privacy was hard to accept). While I still had my home back in Abbotsford to return to for any long weekend or term break, this little dorm became my home-away-from-home. I made new friends, explored all of the unexplored corners, made new memories and learned more about myself in this unfamiliar territory than I ever would have if I had stayed at home.

Last November my family decided to move again. This time, it wasn’t because we needed a bigger house. My Grandfather was diagnosed with Stage 3 pancreatic cancer and my Grandma couldn’t take care of him alone. My Grandparents moved into the basement suite of our new house so that we could help take care of him whenever she needed. The home that provided me with all of my familiar comfort when I returned from university was no longer ours. Despite the fact that we were moving for good reasons, I couldn’t help but feel like I was losing the only constant space that I defined as home. I had never seen the house before I helped my family move in, and I was afraid of the new, unfamiliar space that would now become by new “constant” home. However, after returning for Christmas break I settled in perfectly.

I feel like, because the term “home” is so ambiguous, it doesn’t necessarily have to relate to any physical space specifically. Instead, “home” can refer to the feeling that you get after returning from the library after a long day of studying, the memories that taught you important lessons as a child or a young adult, the people that provide you with love, support and comfort, or even the feeling of being safe from harm. The concept of “home” is so ambiguous that it’s even used to describe our Facebook news feed (even though most of us would never characterize our social media as “home”)

My mom always told me that time heals everything. Even in the most uncomfortable, unfamiliar, frightening situations and spaces eventually become familiar.

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Works Cited
“In My First Year of University I Wish I Had …” The Globe and Mail. N.p., n.d. Web. 06 June 2015.

“Preparing Your Child for a Move.” KidsHealth – the Web’s Most Visited Site about Children’s Health. Ed. Jennifer Shroff Pendley. The Nemours Foundation, 01 Nov. 2014. Web. 06 June 2015.