Sadie Says Home Is Where the Heart Is

When going off to college, everyone warns you of homesickness – nobody is safe, and no one knows when exactly it will hit. Being only four hours from home, I neglected to realize that homesickness might hit at rather inconvenient times, maybe a random Tuesday night in the midst of winter, or during monumental events at home.

Especially around the holidays, I crave being at home – distance has truly made the heart grow fonder, and I now appreciate the simplicity and quaintness of where I grew up.

Therefore, even though spring break was a mere few weeks ago, I have been readily counting down the days to our upcoming Easter break (which is already tomorrow!). Time doesn’t necessarily fly when you’re not having fun (academic weapon behavior has been prevalent in the past few weeks), but I am so glad that Easter break is finally upon us.

This Easter break, I want to take the time to appreciate the beauty of my hometown and being surrounded by the people I love, during one of the most beautiful times of growth and rebirth throughout the year (when it is not snowy and slushy as it is now in Winona).

Many of my peers in high school expressed their excitement to leave our hometown behind, but I for one am proud of where I grew up and am always thrilled to be back. Home truly is where the heart is, no matter what anyone says.

So what is home to me?

Home doesn’t necessarily have to be a physical structure with four walls and a roof over my head, although that is one likely interpretation. I have lived in the same house my entire life, and it has seen its fair share of laughter, tears, joy, and core memories throughout my now nineteen years.

I can move throughout that home with my eyes closed, anticipating the twists, turns, and dips without hesitation. However, the physical structure isn’t exactly my full definition of home – sure, it has been my refuge and a safe space to grow up in, but there is so much more to my home to that.

I am home when I am surrounded by the people I love.

And I don’t think I realized that until I came back home after college.

There was the relief of sleeping in my own bed and eating scrumptious home-cooked meals after being relentlessly subjected to the horror that is the dining hall at Saint Mary’s. But what truly filled my heart up was seeing my comfort people again.

One thing about me is I am a heavy physical touch person. There is nothing more that I love than a good hug.

So reunions with a soul-satisfying hug? That’s basically my dream right there.

Between reuniting with my sisters and my parents, alongside my best friends those first few breaks, I understood the power of people being your home.

Being home means piling on the family room couch just to spend time with each other.

My family members have been there through it all, whether it be a brutal summer of surgeries or through the pitfalls of numerous both empowering and crushing soccer seasons.

There is something so comforting about the people that just get you no matter what and have truly seen you in the good and the bad.

And no matter how convenient and enriching Facetimes and phone calls can be, nothing beats the power of being in their physical presence.

That rings true for my best friends, as well. Scattered across the United States, we are all tackling different challenges while still keeping each other updated on all our aspects of life.

Being home is debriefing in my best friend’s kitchen after a busy semester.

One thing college has taught me is that nothing can beat the little things. You could have all the money and power in the world, but if you don’t have your people by your side, it’s hard to fully appreciate it.

My best friends are the people I actively choose to keep in my life, not just due to proximity or accessibility, but because they are people I want to willingly be surrounded with for the rest of time.

Being home is playing at my soccer facility to better myself.

If I had to name a physical structure I defined as another one of my homes, it would surely be my old club soccer facility. No other place has seen my childhood development and growth such as Strikers Fox Valley – I find myself lucky to have spent so many tireless hours here, working at honing my soccer skills.

I cherish the memories I made at this facility, both the good and the bad, because they have fully shaped me into the person and the player I am today. I owe my skills and my dedication to them, as they cultivated my desire to continue playing soccer past high school.

Strikers will always be home to me, and I’ve made a point to visit there every time I return to my hometown over break. I will forever be grateful for the facility and staff, who made it their goal to better me, no matter what it took, so I had a shot of achieving my dreams.

So home doesn’t have to be one place, one person, or one memory.

My home is personally always evolving and changing alongside the person I am becoming. And I for one am excited to see what new homes I add to the list. In my opinion, home truly is where the heart is – and my heart is full of love for everything around me.