Cookin' n Heels

“When I think of home I think of a place, where love is over flowing.”

-Stephanie Mills, ‘Home’

When I was younger, I thought of home as a physical space where people resided. As I got a little older and my world got a little larger, my definition of home became a little less static.

When I left my home on Lehman St. in August of 2001 to go to UNC Greensboro, home began to mean Henderson, NC. The first semester of my freshman year was rough, and being away from ‘home’ did not make it any easier. I would end up spending a lot of time in Henderson because I found comfort in being around familiar people and surroundings.

When I finished undergrad in 2005 and returned to Henderson, something was different- I was different. Henderson no longer felt completely like home. While it was familiar and my family was there, the comfort level had shifted. I always knew that Henderson would never be my final resting place, but I had not counted on the level discomfort I experienced.

In April of 2009 I moved to the DC area and home got a little more complicated. It definitely took some adjusting for the first year or so, but I eventually felt more at ease. But there was a conflict: all of my family was still in NC. My mother, who was always home for me, was in Henderson and I was 200+ miles away from her and my siblings and the rest of my family. Sure, I would go down on weekends and they would even come here sometimes, but things had definitely shifted.

Now, having lived in this area for over 14 years, this is pretty much home for me. My life is here at this point. I go back to NC on occasion, and whenever I do I ask myself if I could ever live down there again. I can’t say that the answer to that question is an absolute yes. I also can’t rule it out. For a while, after ma went to sleep, I avoided going ‘home’; it was way too painful. As time has gone on, I can find a sense of comfort most times whenever I visit. Even outside of my family, the hospitality and kindness that is more commonplace warms my heart. I miss things like that. I also enjoy the home that I have made here in Northern Virginia.

See, what I realized is that home, for me, is a feeling. It is safety. It is comfort. It is connection. It is love. These things can be people, places, or ultimately feelings. I can never forget where I came from, and I have no desire to. There is comfort in familiarity and nostalgia. However, our best days are always ahead of us, and with this in mind, I get to determine where ‘home’ is for me. Sometimes it’s in my house, on my couch, watching ‘To Wong Foo…’ Other times, it’s in Henderson, at Golden Skillet, talking to a random elder while I wait for my box of gizzards. It’s even at the Wegmans in Wake Forest, chatting with the barista while she makes my large caramel latte with 4 shots of espresso.

Ultimately, home is wherever I need it to be, and for that realization, I am so grateful.

Where do you consider ‘home’?

Speaking of comfort, this soup recipe is good for everything that ails you. Don’t say I never gave you nothing! 🙃😉