I'm young. I'm a renter. I don't want to be tied down. Knowing that when my lease is up I could pick up and leave, go anywhere imaginable is exciting, and almost calming. Both sides of the sword. I really don't have a "home". Minneapolis is home, but Minneapolis is city, with a million niches, a diversity of neighborhoods and a lot of potential places to settle.
I am not ready to settle. I don't want to plant my roots yet. I know Minneapolis will always be my home, but where I am going to end up still isn't in even in my thoughts.
My apartment is cozy, I'm a packrat - I live with three roomies, whom I adore. The furniture is mostly mine, the knick knacks are mostly mine. The art on the walls belongs to me. But still this isn't my home. Moms is far from home, I was erased from that house years ago. Dads never was home, he drifted while I was growing up - I don't think he would even call the apartment he is living in home.
That doesn't keep me from saving the pictures into a folder called home on my desktop. Things I think are pretty, ways I would love to live....
Sigh. Love.
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