home, sweet home?

I know I've done this before, but given the assignment, I feel like I should do it again.

This is my desk drawer. As you can see, it's full of stuff.

I like to think that if I take a little piece, a relic of sorts, from each special experience, I'll preserve it in a tangible object and make it much easier to remember (or much harder to forget).


I lived in Lancaster, Pennsylvania for 15 years, and when I moved away, I never believed I could ever come to call another place my home. But after just 4 years in Long Valley, New Jersey, I realized that I felt more at home there than I did in Lancaster. And then, college at Penn State... I miss it so much right now, it feels like I'm both at home and away from home while living here in NJ.

It's been said many times before, but the message is strong and true for anyone who has experienced it. If you've lived in more than one place, you start to lose concept of "home".

These little pieces of plastic and wood and metal and rubber and rock are, collectively, my home (or at least some of it. I have lots of stuff squirreled away in other places as well). I just can't call any place "home"; if I did, I'd be lying to myself. My "home sweet home" is only in my memories, but I don't see that as a negative thing. If I want to go home, I'll just sit for hours looking at these simple things and remember times of great happiness and, in some cases, times of great pain and sadness.

The most important thing, I think, is that I keep myself letting the experiences slip away.

(If you would like, pick one of the items in the photo or linked blip above and ask me about it in a comment. I'll do my best to remember its significance and respond in another comment)