less than a month or home is where the heart is

I always get excited when i'm under a month in the tally of going home. (that's home looking north towards lebanon and syria)

Home. See, that's where the problem starts--i have a blurry concept. Generally, i define home as where my parents are or where i plan on sleeping. Occasionally, i associate it with where i am from (north carolina), but i try to keep that seperate in my head as i haven't functionally lived there in over 16 years. mostly i try to keep it locational, rather than emotional or sensory. when you have a place where all your childhood memories are still kept, or your adventures mostly occurred--its easier to stay attached, to know that place still loves you with all the fondness it did when you played little league or dug for worms or learned to drive. I only have two memories of learning to drive and only one happened "at home" when (my mom does this hissing noise when she doesn't like how you drive and she puts her feet on the dash) i decided that enough is enough of the hissing and i would give her something really good to hiss about and gunned the mini-van up the driveway stopping 3.45 inches from the garage door. Congrats Dodge, the '89 Caravan's brakes worked! Anyways, sometimes there are the emotional tugs though...Sometimes, its noises--crickets, cicadas. or feelings, like eating mint chocolate chip ice cream under a blanket next to the heater. Certain smells are home:
1. fresh sheets/towels
2. honeysuckle in the summer
3. my dad's chili

I used to tell quddus that you either have to go hard or go home, and that since i had no "home" to go to there was really only one option. this masterful self-trickery has helped me get through the marathon last couple years. With one left to go before graduation, i'm finally feeling like there's a little room to breathe.

maybe i'm just like most nomads, home is wherever the people you love are--mercifully making me a worldwide homeowner!