I don't know where my home is...

I felt very strange throughout my weekend in Louisville. I had not visited since last July, nearly 8 months ago. The first time I visited after my move to Virginia was February of 2005. The giddiness and excitement was overflowing. I was going home after being away for 4 long months. I visited again in May (the visit which included the best. concert. ever.), that time with my own vehicle. There was something about being there in my own car that made me feel as if I had never left. I went back only two months later for Brandon Flowers (yet again), but more importantly, to see two new babies that had just been born. That was a quick trip and I don't remember having time to contemplate my surroundings and how I fit in.

This time was different. Brianna and I went to the familiar east end on Friday to see another new baby at the hospital and again on Saturday to visit with the two babies that are now almost 8 months old. We met them at St. Matthews mall for lunch, extremely close to my old apartment. Afterwards, we decided to go to the Summit. We drove passed my old apartment, and took my old route towards my favorite mall in the Louisville area. I mentioned to Brianna that I felt very weird, almost as if I had never lived there before, but I knew my way around like I had a map in my head or something. However, I couldn't pinpoint the exact reason for the weirdness. Until yesterday.

As I sat in the back of the car with Isaac on the way to the airport, I finally figured it out. Louisville didn't feel like home. Every other time I visited, I was going home. But not this time. I was merely a visitor. Yes, I have strong ties there. But not all of me is there like it once was. I shared my realization with Brianna, and she said, "That's okay, it just means that you've moved on." I wanted to cry. Later, on the plane, I did cry (and I would be lying if I said that I wasn't holding back tears right now).

Shortly after this discussion, the once popular and ever-cheesy (though I do admit to owning the cd) I'm Like a Bird by Nelly Furtado came on the radio. I laughed as I remembered loving this song in college. It upset my mom and she would say, "Karyn, do you really feel like that? You know where your home is, right?" I think this was about the time that she was realizing that I would never live at home with her again. Whether or not I related the words to this song and the discussion of no longer being at home in Louisville to one another at that time (I didn't), it fits. As I was looking out the window on the airplane and listening to music from the Vine (I had to Church it up), my eyes started welling. Did I feel like I was going home? Is my home really the DC area? When I thought about my dog and my couch, I felt like I was going home. But those things are portable. I didn't feel a sense of awe and wonder when I saw the Capitol or the Washington Monument. It felt familiar, just like Louisville, but it wasn't home. The sadness I felt for the rest of the evening was overwhelming.

I am forced to ask myself, "Where is home, exactly?" And the truth is, it's everywhere. My home is in the Keys with my mom. It's in Miami with my dad. It's in Delaware with Krista and Steve. It's in Massachusetts with Hollis. It's in Louisville with Brianna. It's in Indiana and Chicago with the OFO's. It's sleeping in pink suede bed right now in Alexandria with Abby. It's everywhere. My life has become so spread out. And I have to be okay with that.

Am I okay with that?