What is home? Where the heart is? Where you grew up? Where you hang your hat? Around holidays, I often hear the question, “Are you going home for (name of holiday)?” My husband hears it too, and it took both of us many years to begin answering, “Yes, we’re staying home.”
Mitch and I grew up in Memphis. We moved away in 1988. Taylor was 8 months old. And we moved FAR away: Las Vegas. The city was so different from Memphis, it might as well have been Mars. We considered Memphis our home for at least the first year – if not longer. After three years in the desert, we moved to Northeast Ohio. Yeah. Cuz everybody does that. Las Vegas, then Cleveland. If Las Vegas was Mars, Cleveland was at least Pluto or Neptune.
We’ve been in Ohio for 23 years. We weren’t born or raised in Ohio. We didn’t attend primary or secondary schools in Ohio, but it feels more like home than Tennessee does. Our nine years in west Akron were the homiest of all. That’s where we raised our son. Bought our first house. Turned 40.
We moved to Cincinnati in 2006. We’ve been away from Akron long enough that it no longer feels like home. Like Memphis, it’s become a place to visit friends and family and grab a meal at a favorite place. After eight years, I’m still wondering when Cincinnati will feel like home.
Wow… introspective much? Yes. I’m between jobs and wandering aimlessly through a dark, wet spring. I need to find a home. I need to make a home. I need to go home.