Home sweet home. When I was younger I had a bitter-sweet relationship with my home. I probably still do today. I wanted to get out. I wanted to be free of my prison. I wanted have a big family that would play with me. I wanted to stay there forever. I wanted to never see it again. My thoughts towards it changed as often as the weather here in Vermont. I’ve spent so much time here in my house and feel comfortable here. Where else would I go? Where else could I go and feel the same comfort?
I’ve stayed with a few of my friends for a few days before. Almost every year since I was in fifth grade my parents have gone to Charleston, South Carolina, for the annual Oyster Fest held there. While they’re gone in mid January I had to stay here, so for four or so days I would stay with a friend and have stayed with three different friends throughout the years. I hated to come home and this last time they went I actually cried on the way home because I felt like the last week was washed away and once I stepped into my house I felt like I had never left.
That being said my living room is where I feel most comfortable and myself. I can lay on the floor with my dog next to me or wrapped in the big brown fleece blanket. I can be watching a movie in my pajamas or just playing my phone; but my favorite in when I play music and sing along, mind you I am a horrible singer, but when I have the house to myself I can do what I want. I love music and play it constantly. I’ve been known to have the TV on but have my music playing out loud from my phone. I can’t do homework without my music. I can’t shower or get ready for school without playing music.
My living room is also nice when there are other people in it too. The living room is often called the family room so it’s only natural that that's where we spend the most time. I especially like when my brother is in it and even more so when he isn’t watching Netflix on his phone with his headphones in. I know that we lead a pretty boring life in my household but when he sits on the couch and watches what we are watching and semi pays attention I feel like we are something other that estranged strangers. When he’s home I never see him. He closes himself up in his room and if he’s downstairs when I get home from school he quickly retreats to his bed. I know that we are siblings and there’s a three and half year age difference and that we aren’t supposed to be close, but sometimes I wish that we were. I wish that he would want to talk to me or at least say something when I ask him a question instead of just shrugging. I wish that I could call him an acquaintance, but we aren’t that close.
How funny that I feel most at home in my home. It I was asked this question a few years ago I would have had a different answer, but part of growing up is accepting what you can not change and becoming okay with things that you weren’t when you were a kid.