Prompts come in many different forms. Sometimes, a single word is all you need to get your mind’s wheels turning.
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The dictionary defines home as the place where one lives permanently, especially as a member of a family or household. I think home means something different to each person. For some home is a place, a childhood home, the place where you were raised. For others home isn’t a place it’s wherever your family is, where you feel loved and accepted.
When I hear the word “home” nothing immediately comes to mind.
My hometown is San Diego, that’s where I was born and spent the majority of my life so far. But I haven’t been back in a long time and I have no close family members there anymore, so to me it’s almost become this empty place. I have no fuzzy feelings or pull to San Diego that I would attribute to a place called home.
My parents are separated and my family is scattered all over the country. Although if they were all in one place my relationship with my extended family is distant. So I doubt I would call that place home.
I don’t believe I’ve lived in Atlanta long enough to truly call it home. My apartment here is just a temporary roof over my head it has no sentimental value.
I suppose my home is something in the making. I daydream about one day when I have a family of my own, having a open home for anyone who needs it. Need a meal? Come. A place to lay your head? Come. Need a surrogate family? Come. My home is your home.
Until then I don’t feel like my life is lacking too much. Yes my family isn’t all together and I don’t have a childhood home I can return to but I do have a support system of my immediate family and close friends throughout Atlanta. So I have little pieces of home all over the city and I am thankful for them.