It's hard to remember what your family is like when you're not with them, that's something I've come to realize. Maybe that's just my own personal mind at work, but maybe that's everyone. I forget how much these people get me, and how much I love that they do. It doesn't matter where "home" is, because it's wherever they are. Minus all the mushy cliche interpretations of what I just said, they are home to me. I hope everyone feels this way about someone or something. I hope something makes you feel home, something crosses your mind everyday, or something molded you or is molding you into the person you are today. Home for me is not geographical. After all, I get pestered and guilt tripped by my mother if I call my college town my home. To me, both are home. One just has deeper roots. Yet both have seen me grow in immense ways.
Family is a tricky thing, they share a deeper bond with you and your past. There's only so much you can convey to someone who wasn't there to see it unveil. Yet I've learned that even though family is irreplaceable, you create new branches of "family" wherever you feel at home. For me, my people are in my college town. Those are just simply, my people. I've been blessed enough to find multiple minds that mesh with mine and for me, that can be difficult. I'm not the easiest brain wave to catch on to. I'm forever thankful for the many amazing people I've encountered in that town, at home, and among other travels. I'm just a little smitten at the fact that one of those amazing people, embodies a scary similar version of myself (probably a better one). And that person's hand just happens to fit perfectly in mine.
Moral of this post and this thought process, is that I'm irrevocably thankful for the inspiring and homey people in my life. Thank you for all you do for me, even when you don't realize that you're doing anything at all. I hope you feel at home, for now and always. Happy day of giving thanks. Make it every day.