Globalization. No, I won't discuss the pros and cons of globalization. I just wanted to name the reason why our current society is travelling so much.

Airplanes, trains, busses, ferries and cars made it possible to get from one side of the world to the other in about 30 hours. Who'd have imagined that a century ago?

In comparison to my parents I've travelled a lot in my comparatively short life. You can read all about it here, if ya want. What I've been trying to segue into for the past six sentences is this though: I have more than one home. One of my travels had such an impact on my life that I actually gained another home (besides the ones I had all along.)

This is where I define to you what home means to me: a place where I feel 100% comfortable to be my 'true' self and I always wanna return to. It's a place filled with family and friends that'll welcome me with open arms no matter what.

Although I changed flats once, I never moved out of my hometown. I wasn't born here, since this town doesn't have a hospital but I grew up here and I was raised here and I still live here. I'm used to this town. But it's only my home because my family lives here. Nothing special about the town itself. It's not that nice actually.

The city my father lives in, contains another home of mine. Again, the term home only applies to the people I associate with this place. Again, my family lives there. (It's a big family, okay? It doesn't fit into one city.)

My aunt's house is home, too. Always has been. My cousins and I have been friends since the dawn of time and I probably spent more nights of my childhood with them than without. Whenever I had a free period during school I'd head straight to my aunt's and was always greeted with some delicious meal. My uncle and aunt helped my family through some tough times and I know they'll never get angry about my unannounced visits.

My last home is in Chile. I've talked about it before and I'll talk about it again. The Dìaz family is Ohana. And their house is mi casa. I had such an amazing time in this beautiful country with these lovely people. I'm desperately working on a return.

(I'm not really sure where I'm going with this post anymore, but I'll try to make some poetic conclusion.)

Four homes. Four families. That's a decent amount of people to fall back on if I should ever find myself in need of a roof to put my head under. I hope that one day I'll be able to provide other people with that kind of support, too. I want my home to be other people's home. I want them to feel a 100% comfortable to be their 'true' self in my home. I want them to know that I'll always have their back.

Wow, this turned from a post about home to a post about friendship and shit real quick. Soz. Let me try again:

They say home is where your heart is at and...

Wait, stole that one from Gabrielle Aplin.

Four walls and a roof.
My very own space to fill with my belongings.
A shelf here, a blanket there, some lights... perfect.
Barefooted I walk down the hallway, touching the walls with my fingertips.
Music in my ears I dance my heart out until I collapse laughing onto the sofa.
There are two little cacti sitting on my window sill waiting patiently to be watered.
Light finds it way through the curtains, over the floor, up my arms and kisses my cheeks.
I get it now, the desire to have a home to yourself. This is a kingdom and I'm the queen.
Not only princess of the castle. I make the rules now. The music stops.
Silence fills my ears. It hits me like a wave. 
A home must be filled with a family.
Otherwise, it's nothing but...
four walls and a roof.

Huh, this post took a way different turn than what I had in mind originally. Oh, well, just going with the flow here. 

This is probably my most incoherent post so far. I hope you liked some part of it anyways.

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