My Home
Each year millions of dollars are spent on therapy because people want to re-live their childhood. These people discover late in life that childhood was the time period where the most meaningful parts of life were. Things from our past don't just fade away, they are part of us, and most people greatly miss them weather they know it or not. My most meaningful place is my parents' house because it is a symbol of reliving my childhood, indulging in good times, and just plain feeling at home.
Childhood is the time in life where personality traits are formed and memories haven't yet taken a sentimental feeling. Now that those times are gone, I remember running through the neighborhood with my friends and many other happy times where I knew I was having fun. The time my brother and I were playing hockey in my living room was fun. It was a friendly game, and we even had the cushions form the couch set up so nothing would get broken. Little did we know one stray puck would have us replacing drywall at 11:30 PM so our parents wouldn't see it, but, like everything else, we did it because it was enjoyment. My theory on life is, in order for something to be meaningful, you have to want it. I don't always want the irresponsible times of discovery that were my childhood back, but I do strive for the feelings I had toward life when I was there. Having a pleasant attitude all the time may not be possible this day in age, but I know it's a good feeling when you can. I can recall these memories at any time, but they are especially present when I am at my home. It's not just because most of these things took place while I was at home, but because I actually feel like I can do everything again while I am there. In this aspect, my parents' home is a giant playground of memories with every toy I can imagine.
I don't live far from this home. I've decided to make it a habit to visit every Sunday with the rest of my siblings that have moved on. I recall lots of fighting when we were children. We weren't dysfunctional or anything, but like most families, the children argued. Since I have been here, even if it has only been three weeks, I've noticed that these once dreaded Sunday dinners are a lot of fun. I can converse with my older brothers and sisters like never before. Eating dinner is no longer a rush to gulp the food down as fast as possible go we can go back to playing, but a dinner table with people passing the mashed potatoes around, laughing, and enjoying eachother's company. Leaving the house may have push my family apart a little, but coming back to it glues us back together stronger than ever. We even plan things like golf outings so we can spend more time with each other. I have made my home a sort of symbol of this which is another reason I have named it the most meaningful place to me.
Dorm life is uncharted territory. I've never had a room of my own. In fact, I didn't have my own bed until I was nine. Now, the situation is the same, but there is a perfect stranger in the room with me. He's a great guy, but we still know little to nothing about each other. When I shared a room with my brother it was normal, but this is Greek. I adjust, slowly, to a new life, but know what home should feel like. My dorm hasn't yet become a place where I can kick off my shoes and sleep on the floor by the heating duct like all of those winter mornings in the past. My older sister and I would do that all the time. Every morning before school, when the heat kicked in, we would stop whatever we were doing, and get in a blanket in front of the heating duct on the floor. The view wasn't as great as a fireplace, but we had the window with the wonderful snow falling to keep our attention. That is my definition of home. Were you can be sitting in the weirdest position in the world, perfectly comfortable, including knowing the people who see you doing it might laugh, but won't judge you by it. At home, I could walk form the living room to my kitchen on my hands and excluding some strange looks, things would continue as normal. An example was one time last year, it was homecoming week at my High School. In the mood of school sprit, my best friend and I made blue and gold super hero outfits, representing our school colors, put on our capes, painted our faces, dyed our hair, and went off to school. I'll never forget the look on my dad's face when we exited the bathroom, but I was perfectly comfortable with it. I don't think my hall-mates in Mary Jo would feel the same way. My house is the only place right now where I feel at home. That is one of the most important reasons my house is meaningful to me.
Something is meaningful because you put it in your heart. As the old saying goes, "Home is where the heart is.". Through reliving my childhood, the happiness I've experienced, and the feeling it causes to be there, I know that my home is possibly the most meaningful symbol I could ever have.