Home Not So Homey

As a third year college student, I'm used to moving around each year. My first year in college, I was lucky enough to spend it in the CSU Sac dorms! It was awesome (kind of.) I had no clue of who my roommate actually was until the first day we moved in--she turned out to be pretty cool, but we shared nothing in common.With my first roommate, living in a 12 ft. by 12 ft room, twin beds only about five feet away from each other, and her boyfriend practically living there too, it wasn't exactly a 10 out of 10 either.  My second year in Sacramento, I decided to move in with seven Christian girls. That experience wasn't too bad since I did know two of the girls for almost a year before hand, but it did have it's mishaps. From very different P.O.V.'s to the age ranging from 24 to 19! Yep, you can probably get the picture of that situation. Nevertheless, since the beginning of my third year, I've now been living with my old hometown BFFS... We know everything about each other (which is a pro and con,) we know what makes each other upset and we know how to comfort one another as well.
In between all the moving from dorm to house to apartment, I've spent my summers at my parent's, back in my lonely hometown. When there, I live out of a suitcase and either sleep on the couch or with my little sister on her bunk bed. Pretty much, being back at home for the holidays could be ranked a 6/10.
I've yet to feel at home anywhere that I am currently living. The feeling is rare when I feel a sort of serenity, a safe haven, warmth, complete and utter happiness. If I may be honest (and I may, since this is indeed my blog,) these feelings of being home only occur when I'm around someone special. Seemingly crazy, but totally true--the way our hands intertwine and our eyes mingle remind me of a place I use to know. A place with warm honey-kissed sunsets and deep red wine roses. A place where I used to ride my bicycle up and down the streets; a place where, when the streetlights came on outside, it was curfew. A touch that reminds me of my mother's tight tuck into bed and my father's prayer at night. The voice that takes me back to the car rides to school each day, then always being there to pick me up again. A someone, and a feeling, I never want to lose.
Granted, these short instances of time in which I only feel at home don't come and stay for longer than a few days (and are gone for longer than a few months.) So, the only prescription I have until the "someday" these instances last forever, is to improve the homey-ness with adventure, food, and crafts--because, hey, I'm a crafty adventurer who loves food. I shall post some of my adventurous craft making and food eating shortly.

Here is a nice song I love.