I stepped off the bus, wanting to feel that warmth of coming home. It didn’t happen.
It wasn’t because of the weather, although the weather did not assist me in any way with its icy, chopping wind. I was standing in the middle of Soho, and I felt like a tourist. What was wrong?
It took me a while to realize what it was. Home is not a location. It is a place where your loved ones are. And now that most of my loved ones in New York have moved out, the city no longer felt like home to me. How strange!
It was no wonder then, that Cambridge did not feel like home, but that New Haven did– how the industrial bleakness seemed so cozy, the concrete garage houses full of warmth.
Once, someone asked D where her home was. She thought about it, and then answered, ‘home is where my closet is.’
But that certainly does not apply to me. How true is the old proverb- Home is where the heart is! And my heart lies with my family and friends.
@Chelsea District, New York