The Meaning of Home

That familiar feeling is creeping back in. On the eve of a big trip, I always get a twinge of apprehension and sadness. Tomorrow a ton of steel will whisk me away to my hometown and I will leave behind where I have made my home. The house becomes deathly quite as I power down everything that normally whirls, buzzes, and hums in preparation for my absence. Everything here is me. I bought this couch with one of my first paychecks. I remember hauling that table home and worrying about it flying out of the back of the pick-up the entire way. It is my name on the mailbox. It is my stamp that makes this more than a domicile, it makes it my home.

For the past ten years now, I have cultivated a relationship with the city. I can tell you were to get the best pizza, which streets to avoid in rush hour, and what that building used to be before it was a Target. This is where my friends work and live. This is where I want to raise my family. This is where I planted roots. Austin has permeated me with her essence so profusely that I know myself not without it.

Tomorrow I will sleep in a bed I know almost as well as my own. My parent's home is full of all the things that used to be me, before I was old enough to have an identity of my own. There I will be able to navigate to the fridge in the dark. I can tell you which pictures hang on the wall before I look up. The hum of the soft water heater is all the white noise I need to feel like nothing will ever change.

If Vegas is so familiar, so much a part of my childhood, so vivid in my imagination that I could close my eyes and be there; then why do I sit here and feel so lonely. I think the answer lies in the adage, "Home is where the heart is". If my heart has a time-share in Vegas, does it ever really invest itself here? The pull of adopted city is so great that is hurts at my heart to leave it. Here is where everything that I love about myself is. There is everything I love about everyone else.

While I am gone, Austin's world will keep on turning. Without me the sun will rise and the sun will set, boats will still sail, traffic will still flow, bats will still fly. When I am away, a part of me stays here. I can be standing on the corner of Trop and Blvd, my mind will still wonder what my city is doing without me like some sort of jealous lover.

The feeling is there when I leave Vegas, my first home, but fades rapidly when I again bask in Austin's perfumed air. The metaphor of lovers is so apt that it is fair to say that Vegas is my first love. Vegas will always have a place in my heart as does any one's first love, but it's memory quickly fades once you are back in the embarrass of the one you have committed yourself to. So Austin, my love, forget me not while I am gone. I will be back in your embrace in less than a fortnight. Just know, no matter how far I roam, a piece of you will always be with me.