It was the year 2009, I was 8 years old. The only home I knew was Colorado. I was a little kid, leaving behind my bestfriend, my childhood house, the town I knew and mountains I loved. I still remember how the house looked. The big, wooden front door with beautiful, glass windows, hard-wooden floors, and an “S” shaped staircase with my parents room on one end of the hall and my brother and me on the other, the bathroom between us. Our kitchen was huge with a gorgeous view of the mountains and the rose gardens in our backyard.Our living room was cushioned in the back corner of the house, perfect for warming up in cold winters on the couches with blankets and hot- cocoa, perfect for watching movies together as a family and with friends over. The big office where my dad did his “homework” every now and then. The basement door was between the office and leading to the kitchen and dining table. Our basement was the largest room in the house to me. My brother and I shared it as our playroom, I had a seperate room all to my own for just my toys. It was almost always a mess that I had to clean each night before bed,but, besides my room upstairs, it was my place in the house.

I was a shy kid, that hasn’t changed any. I met my best friend, Bethany, by chance, I just happened to bump into her swinging on the swings, on the first day of kindergarten. She was the braver one of us, I was always looking up to her and following what she did. Looking back, we only knew each other for 5 years, but at the time, she was like a sister to me. Her older brother, Tyler, was friends with my older brother, Jake. I don’t think it was intentional, but very convenient for our parents. Bethany and I hung out practically every day, switching off whose house we went to. We’d borrow stuff from each other, do each other’s hair, and all the little girl stuff. When we moved, I felt I was leaving behind my home.

I remember being bummed out the whole move to Illinois. I tried to be in a good mood since my parents knew both Jake and I weren’t fond of living somewhere else. The fast food and hotel stays got old fast, the only part I started to look forward to was sleeping in my own bed again and home cooked meals. I wasn’t eager to give Illinois a chance. In my young mind, it could never be Colorado.

Once we got settled in, physically, it took some time to adjust to a new school, trying to make new friends and not having one to always hang out with or bond with like I could with Bethany. Her and I still kept in touch by writing and mailing letters to each other which after a few years those letters became emails. One summer, we were able to visit Colorado. I was so excited to go home and see my best friend again. After checking into our hotel, we went to the grocery store before our dinner plans at the Duffy’s and, by chance, we happened to bump into them in the King’s Super. Being in Littleton again and hanging with Bethany, it was as if nothing had changed, it felt like home again, it was nostalgic. Yet, part of me felt something off, like it was a dream and it wasn’t my home anymore. I was saying my goodbye.

Looking back, I can’t explain that feeling other than what it made me realize. Home isn’t one place. It’s memories. Memories you’ve had in those places and the people you share them with. The memories won’t change, they live within you and make home, but it’s okay if the place and people do.