A Place to Call Home
There’s something about moving twice in the span of 1.5 years and knowing I’ll have to do it again in another 1.5 years that’s chipping away completely at my sense of home, belonging, and permanence.
When we first moved into that house on Copper Cave, I was desperate to make it feel more like home. I loved raiding dollar and stationary stores for crafts to decorate my walls, tabletop, and dresser. When my mom was coming to visit in summer of 2019, and she asked me what I would like her to get me from desh, I said, “Some of my old stuffed toys and photo albums. I miss them.”
I would soon come to regret that. Spring 2020 came and with it another, significantly smaller move to an apartment nearby (we wanted a cozier place that didn’t feel like an echoey, abandoned palace with only the four of us)—but this time we were going to carry all our stuff instead of picking and choosing for just two suitcases-full each. After having to pack and haul all my belongings across town, setting up my room feels … tedious. The objects I’m attached to feel like a burden. I no longer feel the same urge to make it feel more like home, because I feel like it’ll never feel like the house that had just started to feel like home without my noticing. And even if it does, then what? We move out. Rinse and repeat.
This is another tiny aspect of adulthood I’ve been dipping my toes into. I’m incredibly lucky to be able to study abroad living with my family, spared from all major struggles students face. My dad moved out of his home in the village as a teenager, and has moved around the country and the world since, never able to settle down for good. I know he dreams of living together in a small, comfortable duplex one day, because he’s been telling me stories about that since as far as I can remember. Making the decision to move out of Copper Cave was difficult for him, even though it was the right one.
Right now I don’t know what the future holds for me, where home is going to be. Maybe, like most people, it’ll simultaneously be everywhere and nowhere. But I’ll always hope that someday, at least some semblance of my dad’s little wish for togetherness can come true. We can dream.