Home Again, But Always Home

I was born in the great country of Canada, a land of clean streets, low crime rates, and friendly diverse people. In Toronto, I made childhood friends and we played in a white wooded park near my house. I first learned to bike ride down my street who's length has dwindled with time.

I turned seven in the U.S.A. At the time my father attended Trinity College in Chicago, the same city where he received his undergraduate education. My parents met in Chicago, love bloomed, blossomed into marriage, and many years later returned to its native plot. I loved Chicago, its hustle, its schools, its parks, and the friendships it granted.

But Chicago lasted two years and served as a short, vibrant chapter in the story of my life. My father graduated and in the preceding job hunt the city of Champaign snared my father, for as the hunter chooses the deer the job chooses the man. Where the doe goes the fawn follows. I was destined for Champaign, my educator, my boss, my longest home.

Unfortunately, in Champaign I failed to replace the friends I had left in Toronto and Chicago. JBU, my college albeit at first not by choice, filled the void with the best people I’ve ever known. The character and love sown and shown breaks me. My friends are smart and caring. They enjoy life and still find the will to suffer through it. They are real, and because JBU is their home so it became mine.

Even so, when opportunity knocked and offered overseas travel and promised vistas to view, I embraced it, and luckily opportunity is an obliging fellow. Russia was my destination, a strange land with unknown people speaking unknown words. Three months I lived and breathed Russian air, words, and life. Russians are deeply hospitable people free with their food and open with their lives. And thus a place grows dear.

A wise sage once said, "Home is where the heart is," and he was right. But in every place my physical heart resides, my true heart leaves something of itself behind. In Canada I left roots deep within her soil, remnants of memories and deep sentiments. My heart melted in Chicago and in Champaign it firmed and found a lasting foundation. To my friends at JBU my heart I freely gave. Russia weaved its way in and as I left my ties to that troubled, beautiful country never released and force my own heart to tear itself free.

My heart is shattered and my homes are many, yet I am a more complete person for it.