[at home]

"What instantly makes you feel at home?"

"My dog. Is that a bad answer? A dog, my dog, animals make me feel at home. A puppy, an animal, any sort of dog. Animals are so calming, they're just your sense of home."

"Tell me about your dog."

"Ok, so, I have a dog, her name's Molly, and I've had her since I was in third grade. She's a black lab, and she's probably my best friend. We go on hikes together, we go to the beach together, she basically comes everywhere with me. I'm obsessed with her.

"How did Molly feel when you left for college?"

"She waits by my door every single day, that's what my mom told me. She waits for me outside of my bedroom door. Clearly, she's upset. That's what I'd like to think at least!"

"Home" can be hard to come by this time of year, although it seems to be in constant conversation. With the holiday season fast approaching, people assume that you're returning to a physical location--but sometimes, there isn't time. There isn't money. There just...isn't. The physical location is one thing, the comforts of "home" are hard to mimic elsewhere...but when we really think of "home," rarely do walls, couches, and tables come to mind.

We think of the pictures on the walls, showcasing the people we love.
We think of the people we love on the couches, inviting us to join.
We think of the dinners had around the table, the conversations and stories swapped over a good meal.

We think of so much more than a physical location. "Home" is so much more than that.

When we "go home"--when we truly "go home," we are reuniting with those that know everything about us, and love us anyway. We are reunited with people, pets, friends, family, all of which have molded us into who we are, and continue to shape and encourage us each and every day.

Maybe it's one person, maybe it's one pet...maybe it's the place that shaped you, challenged you, and propelled you forward. But whatever that piece of home is, that sense of home is--cherish it. Recognize it. Hold on to it for the days you won't be able to return, and the days it may not be there to return to. Because as much as this world can hurt...home can always heal, home can restore and rejuvenate, and home can make you whole again.

[childhood memories]

"What's one thing that makes you feel like a child again?"

"Definitely playing outside. Whether it's frisbee or hammocking or...chasing someone, playing tag--I think that's one thing that instantly makes me feel like a kid. When you're running, and you feel that little thing on the inside of your stomach, when you know you're gonna get caught...or playing hide-and-go-seek, too, because you're sitting there for more than 10 minutes, but it's so fun at the same time...and you get that little tinkle and you're like, "I really gotta pee!" 'cause you always did that when you were little, you know what I mean? It happened every time!"

"What's one of your favorite childhood memories?"

"We always went to the beach with my grandpa when we were little. One time we rented out this house right on the beach, I was probably...7, maybe? So my brothers were older. And we walked the entire 3 miles along the beach to collect sea drift and we created a baseball field out of it, because we would always play wiffleball in the front yard. We made an entire baseball field, it was so cool! Then we played wiffleball with all of my cousins and stuff, and that same day, we made sand candles. We still have them in my bathroom back home. It was the one time--especially with my grandpa--where we were all together."

Together. Perhaps that's really what we miss most from childhood--a sense of belonging, of togetherness that comes from having those you love all in one place. We go from meals around the dinner table to meals alone, the television taking the place of a family conversation. Separated by time and space, time together just isn't a priority, replaced by the twists and turns of life's unpredictability. Moments spent together become memories of a time past, until one day only the memories remain.

Reach out to those haunting your memories. Call them, get coffee with them, write them a letter--even if they aren't around to receive it. Maybe then you can begin to recreate that sense of togetherness once more.

[faith & trust]

"What is the most memorable conversation you've had with a stranger?"

"A couple weeks ago, I interviewed to be a Catholic missionary. It's kinda under wraps--no one really knows. I went to this interview weekend really spur of the moment, I didn't necessarily have any intention behind it besides going to have a good weekend with some good Catholic people and I was excited to meet new people. Regardless, I went to the interview and it was a really deep interview--not that you have to spill your entire life story out to them, but they do want to know a lot about you. They want to know what makes you tick, your qualifications, things like that. It was kinda cool that although I didn't know the people that were interviewing me, at all, we shared our faith. And I think it was more than that--we shared passion, too. I just think that if your passion is strong enough, whatever it is, you can talk comfortably about it with anyone. Even though they were asking really deep questions, like 'what's your biggest fault?' and 'what is something you completely regret?', I felt so much comfort in the fact that these strangers in front of me share a common faith and a common passion--there was just trust in the air. It was really comforting, and really affirming."

"When was that last time you felt that sense of trust?"

"This summer, I worked at a summer camp on adult staff. On the adult staff, there were four other people I really bonded with, and I built a lot of trust in them. It was a good, uplifting, healthy group. We had good confrontations with each other--we would fill each other up and uplift each other, and then we would go beyond our little clique to reach the rest of the camp. It was a beautiful, uplifting summer."

"Do you miss it?"

"Yes."

[20 going on 30]

"Where do you see yourself in 10 years?"

"I think, in 10 years, I would like to see myself content. The reason I say that is because right now we have so many avenues ahead of us...we can participate one organization, or take this class, or that class, and everything is always up in the air. More than anything, I would like to see myself in a position in which I am I am content and happy. I want to be content in my job if I'm a manager, or if I'm just starting out, or if I'm just coming out of school, whatever and wherever I may be. I just want to be content with life--if I'm dating someone, or if I'm not dating someone, or if I'm cool Aunt Sara, or whatever it may be. I want to be content in the relationships I have outside of my family. You're always meeting new people in college, and I have these incredible friendships and I think the scariest thing about finishing college is wondering if I'll still have them. And so I want to be content in those relationships, and make sure I've done everything I can to uphold them."

"What do you think the 30-year-old you would say to the 20-year-old you?" 

"I would like to think 'let go and calm down a little bit,' but knowing myself, the Type-A will never leave me. I think she's going to say it's okay to go with Plan B. This is even something I'm learning this week. You have a plan, you stick with that plan, and everything will go according to plan, and that is the way it will be...and then things don't turn out the way you expected, or people surprise you, or things surprise you, and it's ok that things don't always turn out the way you anticipated. How you bounced back is going to define you, rather than your failed plans."