I believe in home. I have been searching for that home for as long as I can remember, for a place of comfort to run to when joyous and sad. I know I have had many letdowns. When I get to thinking about all the things that I have to do it makes me want to go out in my pick-up truck and drive to somewhere that is anywhere but here, to run from my problems but they always seem to catch back up to me and the cycle repeats, failure, defeat, and lonely feeling.
It is the feeling that I let everyone down; so many expectations, so many goals, yet still I feel like I’m always so far from reaching them. I feel this great need to pay back everything and everyone who has try to help me get through the tough times, from losing my mother to possibly failing a class. I know that they don’t ask it of me and they do it freely but yet I still want to prove that everything they did for me and sacrificed for me wasn’t in vain. When I’m alone in my house I feel that pressure all the time but when I’m home it’s always like a giant weight was taken from my shoulders.
The pick-up truck sits outside on this cold day, waiting for me to turn that ignition and fire away, to look for home once again. I’ve always believe that many could gain an excellent perspective of places and of people when traveling. Every time I get the chance I do hop in my truck and go, sometimes I end up in the countryside, in the city, a different state, or at a body of water. To a place that in some way either reminds me of home or is home.
I do have a residence; my address has three numbers, a name, and is usually follow by the city, state, and zip code. Yet, I find it hard to call this home, a two story house, and I live alone. It’s an empty shell, but it also reminds me of the time when I was little, my four older siblings and parents we always had noise bouncing off the walls, that’s what I called home, all us together. I long for those days, to go out to the backyard and play baseball with a tennis ball with our dirt bases chased around the house or being by somebody for causing havoc in the house. It was my comfort zone, it’s where we were welcomed with open arms, and encouraged to do our best.
My truck takes me home. It provides me to go out and find my family even if it’s on the other side of the continent or world for that matter. Home, it is where I’m happiest with those I love. I have been blessed to have been able to call home far more places than many could say. I believe in home.
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