This weekend I am in Kingwood visiting my brother, who now lives in Kingwood with his 5 children. When I arrived on Friday, I took some time to drive around Kingwood. Many of the structures are the same, the signs are the same, but it just doesn't feel the same. After my freshman year at A&M, my parents moved to London, and have never moved back since. Now I come back every few months to see my brother and his family.
Every time I drive in, it doesn't feel like home. I don't know if it's some of the memories I try to forget that overshadow some of the more fond memories. It might be the fact that in high school I was 1 of 4000+ students, and never felt like a person, just a number. Maybe it's that I haven't had a physical "home" for almost 8 years now. Whatever it is, the place I call home doesn't really feel like home at all.
Yesterday I went for a bike ride. It was a beautiful day. I rode a route I used to ride in high school. It was fun, but as I passed homes of old friends I realized that many of these old friends and their families have since moved. That if I were to go into any of these homes where some of my fondest memories growing up were made, they would look nothing like they did then. I guess this is what they call change... and the world moving on.
I often find myself jealous of friends I have who have lived in the same house all of their lives. They seem to have all these memories of their house, their neighborhood, etc. I do not really have that. I've never lived in a really close knit neighborhood where everybody knows everybody. As I look back though, I wouldn't have changed anything. Growing up, my life had its bitter moments, but those were because of me, not because of where I lived, who my neighbors were, or what school I went to. I think I began to realize this in college, and decided that the direction my life takes is decided by me. I'm glad I did, because I really see college as the turning point in my life.
So as I drove out of Kingwood, I looked back and thanked it for the many memories, good and bad, I had acquired there. Those experiences shaped me, and helped me realize who I wanted to be. I never get angry at my parents for moving us. Not many kids can say they lived in Saudi Arabia, or that by the age of 8 they had traveled through Europe and Asia during every summer and holiday break. That when they would go home for Christmas, it meant a trip to London or Singapore.
So where is home? Is it where your family is? Where the heart is? Where you are? I really don't know. I think home is where you want it to be. It is where you feel comfortable, where you can be you, it is where you feel happy. Probably the closest I've had to home would be College Station, TX. Where is home now... home is wherever my wife, my dog, and my bicycles are. :)
