Vagabond

I came to a realization yesterday when I drove back from Matt's. I don't really have a "home" home anymore, and it feels sort of weird to think about it.

The house where all of my stuff is, all of my clothes and my bed, and where I grew up doesn't have the same home feel. This is part the fact that Mom moved out, but also partly because this place ceased being the center of my world when I graduated high school. My friends aren't here anymore, I pretty much use the house as a place to crash after work. Yes, it's familiar, there are thousands of memories scampering through every corner of the building, but it's not the same. I feel sort of badly that this doesn't feel like home, especially since I feel like my dad is really hoping that I'll stay for longer. It's just not the right place for me to be.

My Mom's is a perfectly fine place to visit, but it's not really home either. It's like fake revisiting my college roomie days, where I have my own room to a certain extent, and it's nice to see my mom and to hang out and eat dinner. But that apartment never has been and most likely never will be "home" to me. I don't leave any stuff there, the room I stay in is a technical guest room but I think I visit and stay over more frequently than anyone else. The other non-home feature is that I don't have a key, I have to be let in every time.

Matt's, in all honesty, is more like a home than anywhere else has been recently. We go out, we see his (our?) friends, we get to be with each other. I have a key now, which is nice, especially if I'm coming down when either he or his mom isn't home, or if either of them are out at work I can leave and feel safe in knowing the house is locked. The main problem is that it isn't our house.  He still lives with his mom (no complaints, it saves money, she lets us more or less do whatever we want, and I like her a lot), but we can't just run around the house however we want, and there's always that sort of "oh is this ok?" aspect on my part.  I keep a bunch of stuff down there now, partially because I've forgotten it and partially because it's just easier to not have to pack and repack every time I head down.  I think what makes it the most like home is because Matt is there, and nothing feels quite right when he's not around.  I don't quite know how to describe it, but everything feels more like home when he's there, even if it's nowhere at all.  I'd trade a good day up here on my own for a crappy day down there with him just because it would be with him.  My good and exciting days up here aren't as good or exciting as they could be because I can't come back home and tell him all about them in person and snuggle up and talk.  It's little things like that that make a place home, and I don't have those here.

It was just something on my mind.