home is a term that changes throughout the years.
when you are very young, home is comforting and safe. in your teens, home is restricting. when you are in college, home is a relaxing get-away. in your twenties, home is something that cannot seem to be obtained.
my friend kate said that her town is like a black hole. so is mine. but in all reality, all small towns are like black holes. no one ever leaves and when you try, you somehow get dragged back in.
my mother and i have moved around many times throughout my life, but the one place we always came back to was coloma, michigan. coloma is one of the smallest towns. it consists of six bars, one movie theater, three gas stations and hundreds of farms - as does every single town within a thirty mile radius. the closest 'big' city is kalamazoo, which is about forty minutes away. most of the people here are small minded, opinionated and gossipy. but those are things i got used to.
what i haven't gotten used to, however, are the memories that seem to haunt me every time i visit. the minute i walk into my room, i see jeremy. when i drive downtown, i think of high school and all the drama that came with it. right next door is my grandfather's grave. three doors down is my former best friends' home. it feels like every time i come around, i get ambushed by the past.
the older i get, the more i yearn for my own home.
a place i am in love with; a place i can redo, decorate and make my own; a place to grow.
a place to make new memories.