It has been awhile! I have sat at this screen with my fingers perched at the keyboard a few times, typing away....only to backspace and delete before I could realize what I had just done. Needless to say, I am a pretty passionate person and if I don't feel at least 95% about what I am going to write, I don't waste my time.
I watched Garden State last night. Technically it was the second time I had ever seen it, but realistically it was the first. The first time because I watched it with no interruption and no catnaps. It was beautiful. I loved it. It is definitely up there with my favorites. If you are as behind as I am, please watch it, if nothing else the music in there will touch you. But, the movie posed a great question...what is Home? Something I think maybe we have all struggled with from time to time. Is home my apt at College? Is it the new city I have moved to? Or will home always be that place where Mom and Dad are in charge? Hmmm.....well I will give it a shot:
1. Where your dirty laundry and dishes await you
2. Where you can walk around naked and no one can say anything
3. Where you can cry, or yell, or laugh as loud as you want
4. Where you can spend time with your family or friends
5. Where you either leave everything from the day behind, or bring everything from the day into it
6. Where you relax, indulge, and take the no bullshit approach
7. And...home is where it feels homey.
In the movie, Andrew states he doesn't believe in a "home" per say. Yeah, there is a structure, an address, etc. but specifically he says "maybe home is just a group of people all searching for that imaginary place we call home." I have learned over the years that Home really is what you make it, and who you make it with. People are home. Family and loved ones are home. The reason we all grow up looking for a place that feels homey, is because once upon time, our families made these architectural buildings where we sleep, into something called "Home". Home does exist, but, it is 95% in our hearts, and 5% structure.
For example my Home would have never existed if I didn't know, without a doubt that, I could always go back, no matter what. It wouldn't be home if I didn't hear the dog bark, or my Dad awake at 3:30 in the morning to read his book. It wouldn't be home if I didn't shed a tear every time I went back. It definitely wouldn't be home if I didn't look at the walls of my bedroom and remember all of those confusing and exciting times in high school. And......most of all it wouldn't be home if I couldn't sit on my couch in the living room with my family.
"Home" does change, but family doesn't. We will all grow up (for those of us who haven't yet) and make our own homes. But not so much making it beautiful and trendy, but making it a place for our children to grow up and know what Home feels like and, so that someday they can search for their idea of home and realize that all home ever was, was this great gift called family.
In light of this, my idea of home was really tested when I walked outside of my apartment the other night. As Michael and I were walking to the car I heard rumblings on the sidewalk in the pile of whatever leaves Los Angeles has to shed. It was two bums. Bundled in blankets laying on a heap of leaves, looking quite comfortable actually. It was a dark, cool night, and they were laying underneath the stars. Michael just kept walking, like it was no big deal, and I just couldn't believe that two bums were laying on the sidewalk right outside of our apartment, content as could be. I have thought about those bums quite a lot since I ran into them. Not because they bothered me, or because I was really worried about them, but because I realized that in that moment they were at home. They had each other. If anything I am always thankful for a roof over my head, but in this case, it really occurred to me that love does trump all. And that is what home really is. Love.