Gypsy

What is home? I’ve been looking for home for a long time, in that time I’ve found a lot of things it isn’t.

For instance home is not the vacant former home of one of your friends, neither is it the RV you shared vodka bottle after vodka bottle with said friend. Home is not the bedroom floor at your best friend’s house, no matter how nice it is to pretend you belong to a family it is not your family. Home is also not the mobile home you grew up in after your mother died.

But what is home? Is it a place, a person, a feeling?

Since I was a child I felt like I should be a  nomad. My family didn’t wander, yeah we moved a few times but really no more than average. I felt like I needed to run, needed to get away and experience things I couldn’t experience here. I still feel that way. I’m not sure I’ve ever felt home except when I was with my mom. I was fascinated with gypsies and other wandering folk. I wanted to just pack up and leave but another part of me saw that as selfish. I had people here who needed me, relied on me. I still fight that urge to just run away, to just pack up the few items that mean something to me and run.

I’ve always been fascinated by gypsies and other nomads but gypsies were the top of the list for me. I think if I could be anything I would be a gypsy. Yes, this is just a childhood fantasy but wouldn’t it be wonderful? See new places, meet new people and never feel the restrictions of a “normal” life. I desire the feeling of home more than almost anything, but I’ve determined home doesn’t have to be one set place. I felt at home sitting at Roosevelt Park at 11 0’clock at night drinking cheap beer and talking about life with a good friend, I’ve felt at home playing Magic: The Gathering with my boyfriend at Denny’s. Home is a feeling, not a place.

Home is the comfort of knowing whoever you’re with, you belong. So home is the vacant former home of one of my friends, home is the RV we shared vodka and beer, home is also the bedroom floor of my best friend. This is what gypsies knew that us “normal” people don’t know, home isn’t the house you live in it’s the people you love who love you back.

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About inkspots87

I'm a writer at heart, but so much more. I'm typical, I love music and I've got a thing for pretty things. I like things, in general. If it's a thing chances are I'll like something about it. I love to read. Words are quite possibly my favorite thing, hence why I'm here. View all posts by inkspots87

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