When I was a little girl, I used to collect seashells. I
lived in California and saw them frequently, but their allure never wore off. I
always had a good time at the beach and wanted to take something home to
remember it. I would collect any seashell that was colorful, or pretty to me
and would keep it in a box under my bed. Where it would then collect dust and
occasionally looked at once a month.
Through the years I have found myself repeating this sneaky
little pattern. Many days, I will clean out my wooden dresser and find little
trinkets from an event or notes that people have wrote to me that I found cute
or endearing. This habit is a mild
case of hoarders but I refuse to let it get out of hand and become swallowed by
my stuff. But sometimes I like to keep little things to recall my memories and
have a smile.
The memories in that home could satisfy chapters of densely
written books that would then fill walls of a mile high libraries. My whole family lived under that roof.
That is six kids. Two parents. A cat. A goldfish.
This was the house that I learned to play the violin,
basketball and appreciate music. It is the house that I began to write cursive,
shave my legs and wear makeup. It saw me blossom from a butch banged tom-boy,
that refused to wear skirts or anything with the color pink, to a fashion hungry teenager. The house
witnessed my obsession with panda bears , the WNBA, Titanic, Poetry, music and
painting. It was the house I was living in when I was baptized, lost the state
championship and won student elections. It was easy to sneak out of to meet up
with friends past curfew, and even easier to come home to after a long trip.
I have been told that from the outside, I appear as an avid
traveler. That I am very comfortable being away from home and my comfort.
However, to let you in on a little secret I am actually a HUGE homebody.
Meaning, eating popcorn with my parents on a Friday night seems just as fun as
any other plans someone could offer. I push myself to travel, to save turtles
in Costa Rica, or risk my rights at the check points in Palestine- but at the
end of the day I still have my home.
As I am planning my future plans and leaving Spain. I feel
so sad that I won’t be able to come home to my favorite little cove cuddle up
in my familiar blankets and fall asleep to the familiar sounds of home.
Sheesh. If you aren’t feeling my homesickness yet, watch
this video and you will understand my exact mood today.
