THIS IS HOME

in college, one develops a somewhat nomadic lifestyle, wandering from place to place; living at a different apartment every four months of the year, always having to make a new home. i would leave other homes behind, some of them i could go back to, but some were only home for a moment. 

and then i went to paris.

and home became a combination of memories, people, busy streets, dirty rivers, and ancient buildings. it wasn't just a place, but a collection of moments. this was home. it was perfect because it was whole. 

but like all things that inevitably end, i had to leave and come back to provo. and almost every day in provo is hard. i found myself longing for paris every second of every single day. i would wake up and think i was still in paris until i remembered i wasn't. 

school is hard, moving is hard, being new is hard. longing for paris is hard. 

then after spending some time in a negative environment, i realized there are two types of longing. there's the longing that is the kind i want; the kind that keeps your heart full of hope, and is a complete kind of love. this kind of longing is a gentle reminder of this thing that you love. the reminder is evident as a smile that flashes across your face. 

the second kind of longing consumes your whole heart, body, and mind. it consumes you until you are burnt out, and there is literally nothing left inside of you except for the feeling of nothing. it's like how there's no such thing as "cold," just the absence of heat. 

 

and i don't want to be the latter. i didn't want the negativity.

i've realized the key to making provo my home is to live every day like i did when i was in paris. we didn't know what we were going to do. we didn't make any plans, but we lived every moment for that moment. 

on saturday we went to utah lake, and the sun shining bright over the ice and water filled my lungs with cold mountain air, and i didn't think about being in paris. i thought about now. and i was happy. and i was home. this is home.