Defining Home

The other day I was sitting around and thinking about how much I missed home and how I wanted to go home. And then I started thinking, well, what is "home"?

When I say the word out loud I think in general I am referring to L.A. but if I got on a plane right now and showed up in L.A., there's not really a specific, physical marker that I could go to and call it home.

Sure, there is my parents' house. But a house is not a home! It's my parents' house, not mine. They would be flabbergasted if I referred to it as THEIR house rather than OUR house, which I'm sure many of you understand. It's cultural. And yes, sure, I can say it's my house, but is it my HOME? It's not. It's simply the place I lived in from age 4 to 18, and since age 18, it's simply been a place I go to once in awhile, and a place where I store my stuff. I have spent more years living outside of that house that I did living in it. (How strange to think about!)

Sometimes, I think perhaps my old apartment is "home" - at least my old room. In my mind it is still intact, with all the furniture, bedding, and stuff still there, as I had it for many years. The memory of my old room intact extends for years while the memory of it deconstructed was only for 1-2 days, so I can't visualize it as empty as well as I can with it intact. It's strange to think that it's just not there anymore. I keep thinking that I am on some extended business travel where I am part-working and part-relaxing, and at any day now I will get back on the plane and land at LAX, and hop on the 405 to Wilshire and arrive HOME.

It's really strange how some simple, otherwise meaningless routines can become so permanently ingrained, that to take it away can feel so jarring.

My old apartment is not even one of the best places I've ever lived in (the best is yet to come?), in fact, toe to toe I got a sweeter deal right now.

On a side note, I somehow miss driving! And I miss my car! I think I have forgotten how to drive! The last time I drove was on a hot Monday afternoon sitting in bumper to bumper traffic on the 10 freeway and I thought to myself, "Sure not gonna miss this!" and you know what? I kinda do!

This afternoon I took a little stroll down Riverside Park and enjoyed views of the Hudson River, and actually found it comforting to see the rush hour traffic along the river. Reminded me of PCH. Except fewer lanes. And no marine layer. And warmer.

I didn't end up selling my car. It's parked outside my parents' house gathering dirt and dust. Felt like it was too much trouble when I couldn't possibly get that much money for it (it's a 1999 Camry). I'm kind of glad I kept it because it's just another piece of me that would feel missing. And now I have something to drive when I'm back in L.A.

Clearly, I don't do well with drastic changes. Yet I somehow have a knack of letting routines pile up well past their due dates and then make drastic changes all at once. It's good for you, right? It's good for your brain. And after all, didn't I say that I was "done" with L.A. when I was there?

I know it's only a matter of time before I find my HOME. It's all the time waiting in between that's driving me crazy.