on home.

I was in Colorado last week. my second home, for two reasons. the first is that it's the longest I've lived anywhere besides Arizona, so even though when I'm asked where I'm from and respond with the AZ, Colorado's right behind in second place. Colorado is also the second place I lived during my time on this earth, and my earliest memories are there.

I had every intention on figuring out where our old house was and driving by it, and if I looked too stalkerish perhaps I'd ask the current owners if I could come in and sneak a peak inside. I also assumed we'd spend some time with our dear old family friends sitting on their porch admiring Pikes Peak, where the park next door is where I learned to be a baller. where John Kerr stood out there for over an hour one day and taught me how to shoot. particularly from the corner, saying over and over, "just get it right over the rim. don't look at the backbord. right over the rim." but alas, none of these happened, as time got away with us since I was also going up and back to Wyoming.

home's such a weird thing. where is home, really? each day, ok, well most days at least, I really am learning that home is within myself. I have felt swayed, confused, shattered at times moving my physical body around all the time to different houses and parts of the world. I'm not really sure "where I'm from", but what hasn't changed throughout my journey is me.

home is in me. there is safety and trust. courage, warmth. there is rage and anger, but even those things are okay. my thoughts are there, even the deepest ones that never even get verbalized. my fears are there - the ones that are huge and the ones that get smaller as time goes on and the courage part gets bigger. beauty is there, and strength.

probably these things all have different rooms in the home that is me. some are pretty well kept-up and clean. others I'm afraid to enter, it's been to long, there's clothes on the floor and who knows what else.

but they're all there, and even if I try to kick parts out they come back. they don't ever leave, this is what I'm learning. maybe they switch rooms sometimes as they grow inside of me, but that's my home. that's where I can rest, it's where you can find me. my feelings, my experiences, are of utmost importance and are always invited. they're not to be devalued or stepped on by me or anyone else. in fact they don't exist for anyone else, and aren't something for me to easily give away.

home is me, and thank God I'm on the journey of knowing it and caring for it.