By Rebekah Forsey, SED 2016
Crushed. Confused. Upset. Angry.
They’re kidding. They must be. There’s no way this is real.
“We’re serious. We’re moving to New Hampshire.”
Ugh, New Hampshire stinks. I hate it there, well, I haven’t been there. But I’m sure it stinks. There’s no way I’m going. I’ll buy the house from them. I can’t afford that. Maybe it won’t work. I can talk them out of this.
The day my parents told me that they were selling my childhood house all I could think was that my home was being taken away from me. All of my memories were there, all of my dreams began there, and all of my realities were created there. This cannot be happening. My parents were as nice and supportive as they could be about the situation, but they were offered jobs in New Hampshire and they were going to take them. There were great opportunities waiting for them, and they couldn’t possibly turn it down.
But I’m losing my home. What about what this does to me?
This wasn’t the first time that I had felt like I was losing my home. When I first came to Boston University, I was convinced that no place would ever feel as much like home as my childhood house. Growing up I was very lucky; I never had to try to find a place where I felt at home. My neighbors and I were a family. The only effort I had to put in was showing up outside every day after school to play; the rest just worked itself out. Thus, in another way, growing up I was very unlucky. I never had to make a place feel like home. While I did not have any experience making a place feel like home, within a few weeks of being at BU, I realized that I already felt at home and that these “strangers” had somehow become my family. I guess I could do that again. Maybe it’ll all work out. It’s worked before.
Through my transition to college, it became very clear that “home” is less about the physical place and more about the people with whom you share it.
When I graduate, BU will still be my home because of the memories I have created here and the people that I met here who changed my life forever. The same is true of my childhood home. Just because I can no longer physically live there, it will always be home.
I’m one of the lucky ones, I get to have two homes. And maybe, if I’m lucky, New Hampshire will become my third home. Because now I know that I can create a home wherever I go.
Rebekah Forsey is a junior in the School of Education, majoring in Elementary and Bilingual Education