Home is an interesting word that carries a lot of meaning for many different people. For me, home is a family house on the edge of a park in Rochester, NY. My home consists not only of this family house, but also of the comfort and security that resides there.
This past weekend I was able to manage the eight hour trip east from my Grand Rapids apartment and head back to the place where the story of Aaron, the Aaron I am today, begins. Eight hours, two borders, and 3 coffees later, I arrived at my home with a sigh of relief. Sometimes it feels like the stresses and anxiety of normal life circumstances are somehow disengaged the moment I see the Rochester skyline. And as soon as I go over the bumps and pull into my driveway, time stops.
Going home is an important part of the journey that is my life. It is my new beginning… my fresh start. A place where, no matter what, I am loved and accepted. My life is a timeline and my trips home are the small blips that allow me to re-evaluate how I have changed as a person since my last visit. I love going home and look forward to a time when I can experience that feeling on a more regular basis.