So I haven't written in a while and I must apologize for this. There are an insane amount of topics I've wanted to write about... from the Aurora shooting to the Chick-Fil-A Political Debacle and more tips for college living. However, due to my circumstances at the present moment, I believe the matter that I wish most to write about is Home: leaving home, coming home, home is where the heart is, et cetera, et cetera (said in the style of a famous Rogers and Hammerstein character).
I come from a wonderful family. I am the eldest of my family's 4 children. Translation: I am the Guinea Pig. And though that may sound derogatory, my parents have done a fabulous job of molding, shaping, and otherwise brainwashing me into the lovely person I am today. Those two people have been charged with my life for the last 18 years and now, as I stare my upcoming birthday in the face, I've realized just how hard it is to care for the aforementioned life form. Without compensation or time off from my care; they diligently primped, preened, comforted, scolded, laughed at, laughed with, and other wise trained me. Being the eldest, I've gained an appreciation and great respect for the rearing of children. Let's make that abundantly clear.
But I digress. My feisty family has lived in Saint George, Utah for the past seven (wow, has it really been THAT long? My goodness!) years and has recently moved to the evergreen Flagstaff, Arizona. I grew up in Mesa, Arizona, went to middle and high school in Saint George, and now live in Provo to start the upcoming semester at the University of Brigham Young. To be perfectly honest with all of you readers (who I pretend to be in the "many" category), I am not exactly sure which locale to really call home. I was formed into a girl in Mesa, turned into a teenager in Saint George, and now I feel I am being whipped into a woman by Provo. I feel no real connection to Flagstaff; the place where my family resides. Not that is really matters in the grand scheme of things. Needless to say, the location of my upbringing has had little to do with environment, and everything to do with the care and interaction. I mean, how can you reject the influence of Disney movies with the little ones, sitting on Daddy's lap playing with his Sunday tie because I am getting fussy in church, playing Keep Away as we wait for dinner to finish, going to hundreds upon hundreds of concerts and recitals and sporting events and who could ever forget the hours spent in the kitchen where many of our greatest (and most repulsive) concoctions were born? For those of you out there who are English nerds like me, yes, that was a run on sentence, and no it was not incorrect grammar because I am taking poetic licensing here to set a tone. Ha ha!
Home is such a tender word. Think about it. Let me show my English Sterling Scholar geek card and say what a soothing and soft sounding word it is. Not harsh with any strong consonants, not hard with short vowel sounds, simply steady and utterly relaxing. Just how I think every home should be. No matter where it is. For some people their house is the Home; their sanctuary, their element. For others, like me, it's the people. Where ever my family is, that is where I call home. No matter how many boxes I have to pack -no matter how many long grueling and altogether boring car trips I have to make with my trunk stuffed with the equivalent of a small elephant in things (but things I need!)- no matter where I go in the world there will always be one place that welcomes me and makes me feel as if I'm not the crazy screw up of a girl I usually feel like.
And in conclusion, Your Honor, I would like to just say this: I have spewed all this prose to say that Home is not a location, not necessarily. No, no, it is the family you develop. Maybe it's not your biological family, but some close friends who, let's face it they live at your house enough and you hang out at theirs so much that you might as well just merge the two places and adopt each other. I eagerly look forward to the day that I can make such an environment for a bunch of little bossy blondies to learn and grow and love each other. That's what I feel in my Home. That's how it should be, and that's how it's going to stay if I have anything to say about it.
This is Meg Williams, signing off.
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| The Williams Clan as of 2011. Aren't we a fine bunch? |
