Babcia once told me, “Your memories aren’t in those walls, you take them with you when you go.” It was a tough moment for me and those words filled me with hope and with gratefulness for all I’d had. She was mostly right. But I also believe that when we leave a place, we leave little pieces of ourselves there. That is why we long for places in our memories; we want to retrieve that little part of ourselves that is missing. It draws us back and is ever beyond our reach. Once you lose a little part of yourself, it’s very hard to get it back and almost impossible to get it back exactly as it was before. Time isn’t stagnant you see, it moves constantly. We move constantly through it, changing as we go. Like a rapid stream or river, we move along carried by the water, going from side to side, slowing and speeding up, but ever moving. Those lost pieces are snapshots and become a distant memory of one moment in a timeline. We are reminiscent of something that no longer exists, at least not as it was.

This isn’t always a bad or a sad thing. Everyone knows that you must let go of something old to make room for something new. It’s a part of life. There is one idea though that is bigger and deeper and stronger than all of this. There is one place where our pieces come together, as bent or broken as they may be. There is a place that helps define us and lead us and remind us. That place is home. Home is not really a place though, so much as an idea. Home is a smell. Home is a memory. Home is a view. Home is a flavor or a feeling. Above all else, home is where the people are. The people who truly know us, the people who love us at our worst, the people who want us to find all of life’s treasures, the people who set us on the right path when we fall away; home is where these people are. Home is where our people are. And those people are all that truly matter in this life.

Days pass, moments flee, and we continue on our journeys. Every now and then I am reminded of the importance of my people. I am reminded of the love between us and the shared memories. These are the moments I treasure – when I realize how little everything else matters and how much holding onto each other matters. In the best of times we celebrate and in the worst of times we hold onto each other and love each other. Our people provide for us what no one else can, they are irreplaceable. Our people are the only puzzle pieces that will fit alongside our jagged edges. Separately we are undefined and aimless but together we are “home”.

With Babcia as our matriarch, we are a family. Our extended family includes distant relatives and friends. Each of them have their own “home” and our ideas of home connect us to each other. I don’t own a lot of things. I don’t have a lot of money at my disposal. I don’t have fame (notoriety maybe). However I am so very thankful for my people, for my home. All of my pieces gather there and live together. My people carry me, they inspire me, they soothe me, they love me as I am. I am humbled by the forgiveness and love that I find there.

There are no sweeter words than “welcome home”, and there are no sweeter people than the ones who wait there for me.