The idea of home is a concept I’ve thought long and hard about for the past four or so years. In fact, I think there might be a post about it somewhere on here already. Nonetheless, here I am having all the feels about it yet again.
In the past I’ve struggled with identifying home because I felt like it needed to be connected to a place. Do I pick the place I grew up and spent the first 18 years of my life even though I have no need to go back there ever again? Do I pick the place I want to spend the rest of my life? Am I even allowed to pick a place I’ve never been? As cliche as it sounds I believe in the saying that home is where the heart is. Home is the feeling I get when I walk into a Redwood grove and look up, or when I’m driving along Highway 1 and look out the window along the massive cliffs of California’s coast. I feel at home here with my ten other teammates because the support we provide one another is as strong as the joists and beams of a house.
With the results of the election this week I’ve found myself missing the Bay Area more than I have before. I’m missing the productive conversations that could be happening with co-workers, professors, and friends. I’m missing talking to the people who inspire me most to do good in this world. I’m missing the feeling of being part of powerful places like Oakland and San Francisco. I’m missing the ability to be on the ground fighting the hard fight in the ways that I know best. I guess I left my heart in San Francisco and I’m really starting to miss it.