“Home” has always been a tricky subject for me. From a very early age I knew the word, spoke it, and frequently cried in hopes to return to it. I never did understand the word.

From age 8 to 14 I spent every weekend, and I mean every single one, at my friend Mariah’s house. I can remember every nook and cranny, every speck of dust, and the way the house smelled to this day. That is the most familiar I have ever been with a place, and I know that I will never forget those weekends.

I moved houses, schools, and friends, every year. So many now that they have blurred together. My mother didn’t enjoy staying put. So, starting over was something wholeheartedly familiar to me. All the empty promises though, I’m still not used to those.

There have been only 3 other places that I can remember as clearly as Mariah’s house. The first would be my Auntie Janet’s house. Funny enough, I have only been there a few times, but it has never changed. Everything stays where it belongs, and I have always felt like I can count on it to just stay exactly how it is.

The second would be the last place I lived with my parents; East Place. I guess we lived there long enough for me to let my guard down. I helped my dad renovate that house. We installed floors, painted bedrooms, tore out carpets, knocked down walls, and drywalled. So much hard work put in, but the promises emptied, and they moved away. This time, I stayed. They left the city. I have only seen them twice in the last 2 years.

The third is JP’s house. It always smells the same, and it’s the most welcoming home I have ever set foot in. I went there a couple of years ago, for the first time, and I made sure to soak in every detail. Every smell, every place a painting was hung, anything I could remember it by if I didn’t end up going back. Well, I didn’t end up going back for a year and a bit… When I went back, I was struck by a smell that had stuck in my head and attached itself to the feeling of being loved. I live just around the corner now, and they can’t seem to get rid of me.

But the one place I have felt the most at home isn’t really a place at all. It’s with JP. Now the question is, will I ever be at home in a house if he isn’t there too?