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I love the idea of home.

Whether it be places, people, this body of mine or the way a mug of coffee just seems to fit so well in your hands.

Yes, I love the idea of home.

I have come to find that it is more than just four walls, a bed, a roof over our heads, or a building. Home for me has always been the idea of safety, it has meant unraveling, it is my safe haven, my escape, my lighthouse and my exhale.

Without a doubt when I left the Bay area and transitioned into college it reconstructed what my idea of home was. What did it even look like now? It most definitely wasn’t my dorm; was it the prayer chapel I found myself frequenting with a lot of doubting, a lot of loneliness, a lot of tears? Was it my RA? Or the few people that I found my heart skipping beats with when I found out that they were also familiar with the striking red bridge and nor cal slang? I had no idea what home looked like my freshman year, but that changed after I found a group of people my sophomore year that I still call home. I didn’t know until much later, that my mom had prayed for them for me. She prayed that I would find family that surpassed bloodlines—she must have prayed real hard because they are still my everything to this day.

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Lately, the idea of “home” has been recurring a lot for me.

Especially in conversations about what I will be doing after graduation, there is the question of whether I will be staying here in SoCal or returning to the good ol' Bay Area. The idea of home has been brought up in exchange with other creative individuals through poetic metaphors, the idea of turning people into a home. That’s been the big one for me.

I am even more so convinced now, that home is so much more than what’s familiar or what’s comfortable. Home is more than a building or a room. It is the people who embrace you, tears and all, the team who will always be in the sidelines and then right beside you when running gets to be too hard. Home are the people I can sit and verbally process with, unravel one wordy mouthful at a time and have them ask me questions that I didn’t even know I needed answers to.

 Home is a resting place.

I know that when life here in sunny California gets too overwhelming, uncertain or just straight up sucks, I can hide away in the overcast and below 75 degree whether. It’s where I can exhale real deep and find myself again. It’s where I know cuddling with my mom is an absolute must and all my siblings and I create beautiful chaos as if college never sent us in different directions.

Home is your automatic permission to unravel.

It is your sanctuary and your solid ground. I realize that not everyone has the most positive thoughts when it comes to home. I’m not sure what came to mind when you started reading this, you might have seen an image, a person, a feeling. Maybe you cringed, maybe you pushed the very thought to the place in your mind you refuse to go. I get that. But those places—the home that makes you wish you never had one, doesn’t mean there is no space for redemption.

You see, I am something of a people person, an extrovert at heart most definitely, I thrive off of other people. I am most encouraged by the stories and journeys of others, I will never cease to be so blown away by other humans. All of this makes me realize, I love the idea of being home to someone else. A resting place, a long exhale, open arms and even wider heart.

I’ve always been the person who people can just sort of let go with, they tell me something about themselves and realize shortly after they had no idea they just unraveled so vulnerably and yet so effortlessly. But it never startles me, it is never a bad time, it is always humbling and so so honoring because it means they’ve found a home in me. Somewhere safe for their secrets and deepest heart murmurs. 

All this to say, I want to be a home.

That’s my idea of loving people well. Being a home to them.

Being a judgment free, take your shoes off, stay and rest awhile kind of home.

 That’s also my idea of being loved.

Being able to call others home. Never having to wonder if the lights will be on, or if the door will be unlocked because you just know—they always will.

This idea of home, be it people or places. It’s beautiful isn’t it?

It’s what keeps us waking up the next day and what reminds us that there is still good in this world. It is the quiet tapping on our own hearts where Jesus so desperately wants to find solace.

Ah home.

This deep promise, that I will be a home to you and you will be a home to me.

We don't need buildings or a roof just your hand and my heart, we'll make room in those places for each other.  We’ll cradle warm beverages in our hand, watch the sunrise and challenge each other in love.

Baby, I will leave the light on for ya and

I have no intention of turning it off.

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UncategorizedArielle Estoria