come home.

I have been thinking about home. and what it means to me.

Today I did a clean up at a mobile home park in Waterbury. The site had not been thoroughly cleaned since Irene hit and they were preparing for families to resettle in the land. The site was littered with debris, broken foundations, misplaced wires and insulation that could be mistaken for pink clouds of cotton candy. Bees nests and piles of maggots hid under the old boards and within the dilapidated walls of gutted structures. As I sifted through the debris, my mind became numb to where I was and what I was doing and I fell into a ryhtym of moving things from one pile to another all while thinking of my to-do list and what time  it was and where is my water bottle.

Then one of the other interns at the site turned to me and opened her hand. “look, a door hinge.” I stared down at it somewhat in awe.” The hinge reminded me that the wood we were throwing around was most likely part of a door, the door was a part of a foundation, that foundation was a house and that house was a home. It was a home that no one would every return to. Some person out there had lost this home. This hinge had once been such a small piece of this house and the people who lived there. Now it stood alone, without purpose or meaning. It was a piece of metal destined to be thrown into a heap of other things.

I’ve been thinking a lot about what home means to me and how I will define it. Will it be a place, my dog, a person. More often than not, I find home in the presence of those I love. When I yearn for them, I know I am homesick. I don’t feel this for a place although there are definitely days I just want to go snuggle up in my room and be hidden from the world.

but home, it is a developing thought for me.

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