A Thanksgiving drive and a return to his city reminded Mike Iamele how important home is.
I’m exhausted. Yesterday, after two long days of filming videos, I drove from Syracuse back to Boston. It’s a decently long drive already. Add in an impending snowstorm and everyone traveling home for Thanksgiving—and it’s an exceptionally long drive.
Weary from battling traffic all day, I finally crossed over into Boston city limits. And the moment that the skyline rose before me, I fell in love all over again. I actually gasped. I was home.
I hardly remembered my long days of work. My lack of eight-hour nights of sleep (yep, I’m really a baby about that). My horrible car ride. Because I was home. Back in my home.
As I pulled up to my apartment, and Garrett excitedly came down to greet me, I fell in love with him all over again too. I was home.
With Thanksgiving on the horizon, I got to thinking about gratitude, love, and—especially—home.
So many of us will be traveling to see family, friends, relatives this week. Maybe we’re headed back to our hometowns. Maybe we’ll meet up with friends from years ago. Maybe we’ll be hosting the party at our place. But, no matter what, we’ll be home.
I’ve always wondered what home meant. I’ve never been the home type. I spent summers in Italy. I moved over to San Francisco. I’ve moved apartments so many times that bosses would just use my parents’ address for paperwork. In fact, I lived in 10 different apartments before I finally stayed in one for more than eight months.
I was an adventurer. I wanted to see the world. And home was wherever I wanted it to be.
But, the longer I stayed in Boston, the deeper I fell in love. I loved its neighborhoods. Its food. And its people. Especially its people.
And I never thought I would find someone who could keep up with me and my adventures. And I didn’t. Instead, I found someone who slows me down and reminds me to appreciate all that I have. Garrett makes me stay put. Because he is my greatest adventure. And I don’t even have to travel to get it.
And I created a home—a life that nourishes and supports me. A life that I’m totally and completely in love with. Ironically, it just took some traveling for me to remember where my big adventure actually is.
To me, home is the place where you feel safe. Where you feel like yourself. Where you can drop the mask and just be your goofy, silly self. It nourishes you. It supports you. It reminds you who you are. And, ideally, you’re absolutely in love every time you get back there.
Within minutes of being home, I was reenergized. Like this was my charging dock, and I made it back to refuel. Home is the place that replenishes you when you need it.
So, as Thanksgiving approaches, and we all stress to battle traffic, rush around, and hopefully avoid a fight at the supermarket, think about what home is to you. Is it nourishing and refueling? Does it feel safe for you to be yourself? What is your ideal home? What do you need to feel at peace?
It doesn’t have to be where you currently live. Home can be a park, a museum, a cup of coffee with friends, or even travel. You can have multiple homes. Home can be anything. You just have to know what it is for you. And then keep going back there when you’re feeling low.
And, if you don’t like the home you’ve got now, change it up. Shake it up. Because you need a place that feels right to you. We all do. It’s when we feel most like ourselves. And that’s one of the most important things we can have.
And let’s say thanks. Because it’s Thanksgiving, after all. And it’s been a long year. We’ve changed and grown and evolved. A lot has happened in the last 365 days. Some of it good. Some of it bad. And some of it just plain old exhausting.
But we can always return home when we need a break. We can always return to the place that knows us best. We can always refuel ourselves and see the people we love to see.
And that’s a pretty good reason to say thanks.
Originally posted at BostonWellnessCoach.com.
Photo: Bill Damon/Flickr