What home looks like. A story with pictures.
I just briefly passed by a post of someone I’m following that had a picture and something to the affect of “looks like home.” This got me to wondering. What… does home look like to me? I’ve lived in many places, done a lot of traveling, I never clearly defined what made a place my home. Something visual that made me say “I’m home.”
This first picture is in West Tucson, Arizona. It’s taken at the Saguaro National Park. I used to live a mile from this park. I would walk there into the hills and sit for hours with my dog and just be amazed.
It’s also the same location for Gate’s Pass. It was my favourite place to go watch the most amazing sunsets I’ve ever seen, the night sky and star gaze, and meteor showers.
These photos bring up very fond memories for me. However… they just don’t make me nostalgic for this feeling of home.
This next photo is a scene I have witnessed many times. This is Sky Harbor airpoirt in Phoenix, Arizona at sunset. I have flown in and out of the airport countless times to many different states and countries. I have been through Hell and back and when I returned this was the sort of thing I saw.
As many times as I sighed a breath of reliefe. As vivid as the sensation of warm dry hair caressing my skin, filling my lungs, and warming me up is. Home it didn’t never really struck me as. Just a good place to be for a short time between events. I’ll love it always, but I can’t say I’m home when I step onto the tarmac.
Daytona Beach, another wonderful place I have lived. I spent much time there. Mostly on or just slightly off the A1A living a busy local playboy lifestyle. Drinking at the biker bars, eating at the local reasturants, and showing around the tourist girls.
It’s beautiful. And just on the other side of those lights.
The beach, the bandshell, the clock tower. It was romantic, it was fun, it was beautiful. It wasn’t home. That was made abundently obvious to me. However I will never forget it, and I hope to return.
Norman, Oklahoma. Probably the only place I lived in for more than a year or two other than Tucson. Norman has always been lovely. A nice reprieve from the big city lifestyle I have led. Quaint, often beautiful. I do love Norman. I went to High School there. I had many friends. Went to college there. Lived in the historic part of the campus area. My longest relationship. My very own apartment. A lot has happened to me in Norman.
This is a shot I took at a place I used to spend a lot of time at. The Campus Corner Market across from OU campus on Boyd. I used to go there once a night on foot with my room mate. We would buy our packs of cigarettes for the next day, a couple or large tubs of soda, and we’d sit out front, tell stories, and smoke. It was lovely. But Norman… still isn’t my home. I’ll never forget it, perhaps if I can I’ll own a second house there. Still no home.
I got to wondering. Perhaps my problem is that I have spent so much time traveling that I never had enough time to really establish a home. I have always felt happy, comfortable, and complacent on the open road. I am for sure a Wonderlust King. I have never enjoyed sitting in one place too long. Adult hood and responsibility have tried to put a stop to my movement. So this must be why I feel out of place. I belong on the open road.
This is my home. But then again no. No it’s not. While I’m deeply in love with travel and adventure. There is one thing that keeps this from being my home. You see, because I realise… home is where the heart is, and my heart is here.
With you. So no matter where I go… as long as I’m with you. I’m at home.
