Story: Home

Some people say home is where you come from. But I think it's a place you need to find, like it scattered and you pick pieces of it along the way."

- Unknown

My home is the house I live in, but if you want to know a more in-depth meaning or where I feel I belong, then I have none.

Even if my family and descendants are deeply rooted in Mexico, I'm not from there, not fully at least, so my home isn't there. Although I was born in America, nothing ties me down to this country besides my birth here and living here the majority of my life. It rarely feel like home. Much of it has to do with being raised by a family with different culture and values from those of America. When I look at my reflection in the water or mirror I'm reminded of what I look like. Not American, even if I was born here. I'm different in appearance and culturally. The funny thing is sometimes I don't look Hispanic to my own culture or other cultures. Having my Vietnamese friend tell me she thought I was Japanese when she first met me and became my friend, left me to wonder about my appearance every now and then. Others of Asian decent confuse me as well, and I often have to look at myself to remind myself, "I'm American because I was born here. Hispanic because my family and decedents are from Mexico. And I look Asian because of my mom's eyes." Over all, I can't easily be tied down to any place or categorized by ethnicity. 

So I don't have a home...but... I can say that I have pieces of a home. People and moments make up these pieces.

Sometimes when it rains I feel a part of Home. It's calming times and even though the rain is cold, when I look up to the gray sky, I'm reminded that just like days not everyone is perfect. It's what you make it to be, either good or bad. Maybe that's why I don't mind the rain as much, it's probably why I love it sometimes. I guess that's why it's a part of Home. Rainy days are comforting at times. Just to be able to look out the window and see raindrops slide down glass, it gives me a good enough reason to stop for a moment and be calm and ignore the world around me, if only for a second. 

At Nights I feel I can let go and relax, just be myself. That even though things are ending; somewhere else they are starting. "So why shouldn't I be able to continue?" that's what I think sometimes anyways. Night is feeling tomorrow could be better, another night to come. I can rebel against sleep and feel alive sometimes too. When the moon is the only light I need to get a glass of water or tea. I can look up at the stars and smile feeling like I may be a one single person, but I can be as bright as the rest, if not more. 

Family and friends are many pieces, scattered in different places and by different languages. I think they are the closest Home I have right now. With my family, I'm comforted and accepted no matter what, because the love a family can give is all you sometimes need. You have something and someone to come back to if you stray too far or get lost. At least for me, I feel I can say this. With friends, I can explore and venture out into the world. But with both I can laugh and cry, because during these times they are my Home. I'll admit some get torn, re-taped, and lost sometimes, but the ones I do get to keep are parts of Home I won't easily let go of or let down. These pieces continue to grow in number as I move forward. One day I'll fully put together all the pieces and find Home. 

"It's weird how something so simple represents so much."   

- Unknown