While fall is undoubtably the best time to be in Boston, I stand by the fact that there is nothing better than a small, Midwestern town in the fall. Nothing says home to me like driving down these roads surrounded by trees drenched in the colors of the season. Give me a country radio station or classic rock, and I’m set. Those moments are best accompanied by Kenny Chesney and John Mellencamp. That is what home feels like to me.
Currently, I’m in the midst of a time of transition: from college, to JVC, to life as a post-grad AND an FJV. While threads of my previous experiences remain, what comes now is something completely different.
That doesn’t meant that there isn’t a day that goes by that I don’t think of Casserly House, don’t text my community members, and don’t wonder how the Arboretum or the Public Garden look right now. There are so many songs that I can’t listen to without being transported to moments from last year. I’m still so emotionally involved with that life; I’m still desperately committed to those people.
As grateful as I am to be closer to my family, it’s strange to realize that the people I consider next to family are so many states away. While I spent most of last year complaining about how far away most of the important people in my life were, I don’t know if I quite realized how strong the new communities were I was building in Boston. The line from “Rivers and Roads” by The Head and The Heart still rings true, because no matter where I am, “My family lives in a different state.”
I have spent so much time obsessing over the idea of home, but… this place I love so dearly, this place that raised me, isn’t it for me any longer. That house is not where I belong. I need my own space and my independence. It’s not that I don’t still need community because know I do; now it’s time for me to build my own.
But I’m grateful for this time here in the meantime as I begin to sort out what I want that to look like next.