32. Are You Home?

Within the past three months, I've been able to see almost all of my extended family and it's been the most wonderful and simultaneously heartbreaking thing on the planet. Over spring break we went to Pakistan where I got to see my aunt, both sets of grandparents, cousins, and another aunt whom I hadn't seen in nine years. I'd gone there before, and met all these people before, but somehow this trip stuck with me in a way that no other had. I really spoke to my family and heard what they had to say and learned new things about them. I felt a kind of appreciation and longing for them that I hadn't before. And the whole time I was there was lovely, but leaving was absolutely crap. I cried the entire forty-five minute drive to the airport and then once again on the airplane. This again, I'd done many, many times before, and yet there was a kind of sorrow that I felt that was more than just disappointment at the end of a good thing, but an ache for something I hadn't realized I was missing; the comfortable feeling of an extended family.
      When I got back, I wasn't sure whether I'd just come home, or left it.
      But, as with all things, I got mostly over it. I got back into the routine of school and other time-fillers and that yearning for family dulled again. I spoke to my family when my parents FaceTimed them but didn't go out of my way to communicate with anyone.
       Then, last week we visited my aunt and uncle and cousins who live in the suburbs outside of Chicago. We get to see them between 2-3 times a year for a week typically, and it's always the most fun, exciting week. This past week was no different. We didn't do anything wild or extraordinary; we just talked and laughed late into the night, made midnight runs to pharmacies and McDonald's, and just were. There is something so magical about the comfort of mundane activities with those you love. The more stupid daily things we did, the more I wished that these were just stupid things we did daily rather than a few times a year. There was such a homey feeling about the entire trip. Again, when I got back, it felt like I had just left home rather than come back to it.
      Along with that, I also felt envious of people whose families lived near them. Those people got to see their families whenever they wanted and could do all these everyday things with them, let alone the more exciting things like attending a family member's championship game or graduation or housewarming. The jealousy has subsided — it's not anybody else's fault that my family lives faraway, but the ache is still there.
      Through these two trips I think I've realized what home really means to me. For the longest time, I thought of NOVA as the only place that could ever feel like home. I've never wanted to leave; all my friends and everything I've ever needed are here. We have close family friends who we see on special occasions; people we celebrate and mourn with. Our community is a cosmopolitan, metropolitan area where you see people from every single group you could possibly think of. There are amenities like pharmacies and nice grocery stores and foreign shops and libraries and nationally ranked schools and places of worship within five minutes of our neighborhood. Things here are clean and nice to look at. Physically, there is nothing missing from where we live. But, as I've come to realize, home is not nearly as much a tangible thing as it is a feeling.  
    Coming home is easy, it's a weight lifted off your shoulders, a warmth in your bones, and a rejuvenation of your heart. It doesn't matter that where I live has more amenities than where the rest of my family lives, I want to be with them more than I want to be within walking distance of a library or Target. There is a kind of carefree, obligation-less love that comes from family (whether it be blood-related or not) that I've found to be absent in far too many relationships I have. This is not something that came about suddenly, it has been like this for almost my entire life, but it's as if just realized that I'm missing something so deeply.
     And so, I've been wondering recently, am I really truly home?