Home
Home is where the heart is. Ugh.
I just moved to Andover, far from all my friends. Consequently, I started thinking about what home is and came to realise the old adage is really true.
Home is where you give your heart to others. I will feel at home with my mum in Andover because she's my mum and Andover will make her happier. There will be no bad memories, no footprints of a broken relationship and no mortgage causing problems; All things that made the last place less of a home. Knowing she has somewhere to rebuild a semblance of a home makes it somewhere that is fine by me.
When I moved into uni I didnt want to be there. I was grumpy and was adamant I would never call it home. Then I met my boys and kaja who are akin to family now. I met my other friends and we shared so many memories in just the first year. It was because of them that it was a mere matter of weeks before I didn't even realise I was calling it home.
In the transition to Andover, I stayed with my siblings. I was on a mattress on the floor for weeks in house with no shower because of renovations. I was doing forty hour weeks living in a corner and going to the gym just to wash. But it was the first time I had lived with my siblings and part of me willl miss not doing so.
Home is where you give your heart to others. Wherever I live, Andover or Egham or Basingstoke or Timbuktu, I will always have a home with Beckie (she has a blog that's pretty good and you should check it out www.beckietalkstoomuch.blogspot.com ), with Gemma and Beth and the others in Worthing. Not in the sense that I could live there (Or though I will be staying every now and then), but in the sense that home is no longer a place for me. I have memories, I have friendships, love and support in these places. I have given a little of my heart to each and every good friend and in return, even if they don't know it, they have given me a piece of my soul I didn't think I had.
I've never been overly or openly loving. All my relationships have made me wonder whether it is possible for me to actually properly love; to give my heart to someone. Not in the 'I've been burned so I'll never love again' moody teenager way but in the way that I always end up, whether it takes a week or year, realising that I don't feel the same; that I like the idea but not the person.
In realising that everywhere I feel at home, whether it's a close quarters uni hall, a house I've hardly set foot in, round a garden table with a load of doritos and cider, on a mattress in my sisters house with no shower, or wherever I stay a while, that it's the people that make it, that it's the people my heart feels at home with, I've realised that I can be sentimental and genuinely loving. But don't let too many people know though. I've got a reputation as an ice queen to maintain.
M xxx
I just moved to Andover, far from all my friends. Consequently, I started thinking about what home is and came to realise the old adage is really true.
Home is where you give your heart to others. I will feel at home with my mum in Andover because she's my mum and Andover will make her happier. There will be no bad memories, no footprints of a broken relationship and no mortgage causing problems; All things that made the last place less of a home. Knowing she has somewhere to rebuild a semblance of a home makes it somewhere that is fine by me.
When I moved into uni I didnt want to be there. I was grumpy and was adamant I would never call it home. Then I met my boys and kaja who are akin to family now. I met my other friends and we shared so many memories in just the first year. It was because of them that it was a mere matter of weeks before I didn't even realise I was calling it home.
In the transition to Andover, I stayed with my siblings. I was on a mattress on the floor for weeks in house with no shower because of renovations. I was doing forty hour weeks living in a corner and going to the gym just to wash. But it was the first time I had lived with my siblings and part of me willl miss not doing so.
Home is where you give your heart to others. Wherever I live, Andover or Egham or Basingstoke or Timbuktu, I will always have a home with Beckie (she has a blog that's pretty good and you should check it out www.beckietalkstoomuch.blogspot.com ), with Gemma and Beth and the others in Worthing. Not in the sense that I could live there (Or though I will be staying every now and then), but in the sense that home is no longer a place for me. I have memories, I have friendships, love and support in these places. I have given a little of my heart to each and every good friend and in return, even if they don't know it, they have given me a piece of my soul I didn't think I had.
I've never been overly or openly loving. All my relationships have made me wonder whether it is possible for me to actually properly love; to give my heart to someone. Not in the 'I've been burned so I'll never love again' moody teenager way but in the way that I always end up, whether it takes a week or year, realising that I don't feel the same; that I like the idea but not the person.
In realising that everywhere I feel at home, whether it's a close quarters uni hall, a house I've hardly set foot in, round a garden table with a load of doritos and cider, on a mattress in my sisters house with no shower, or wherever I stay a while, that it's the people that make it, that it's the people my heart feels at home with, I've realised that I can be sentimental and genuinely loving. But don't let too many people know though. I've got a reputation as an ice queen to maintain.
M xxx
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