Home(sick)

I’ve been spending the majority of my time away from home for three and a half years now, but I still get a little homesick sometimes. Not in the “I want a hug from my mommy and fresh laundry for free” sort of way, but in a different way – like when I walk into my sparsely decorated apartment, which we’ve tried to make as homey as possible. It just isn’t. It still feels like the place that I have thrown all my stuff in for the year. Sometimes I long to walk into the warm, welcoming home I grew up in, with my mom’s seasonal decorations, and my dad’s computer lying sideways between the couch and the end table. For some reason, nothing can replace home. Maybe someday, when I’ve established a permanent life for myself that doesn’t contain holiday breaks and extensive lacks of sleep, home will be where I live. But for now, every so often, home is still Omaha, still where my cats claw on my door at 3am, where leaving the toilet seat up is a federal offense.