Noun; the place where one lives permanently, especially as a member of a family or household.
Adjective; relating to the place where one lives.
(A second magnolia flower I’ve done– symbolizing femininity and purity)
That amazing moment when you finish your exams, which also means: summer! Finishing the end of the school year! Freedom! Parties! Friends! Livin’ it up!! Time for art!!
Kidding. I’ll be working. Full time. Which isn’t too bad when you think about it, considering I’ll have some financial security in the fall. I mean, sure, parties and friends are fun too an it’s likely I may do a few things related to that, but I’m also okay with working to help pay off rent in the next year. Most importantly, I’ll also be able to make time to do art things, sculpting and sketching in particular. However, I’m just sorta sad that I’m in Winnipeg, MB for the summer (4 months, to be exact).
Okay despite the fact that Winnipeg is my birthplace, I just hate it. Everyone likes to tell me that Winnipeg is my home because I was born and partly raised there, but just because you’re born somewhere doesn’t necessarily make it home! To me, Vancouver has become my home; I love all the things about it, and I feel like Vancouver makes me more optimistic, and I’m often in happier moods. Even though a lot of people’s moods are disrupted by the gloom and rainy days of Vancouver, I’d still take that over -45 degrees Celsius. I’m pretty crabby in that kind of weather.
Yet another part of me wonders if Vancouver is truly my home. Maybe I have multiple, different kinds of homes. Ones that I haven’t been to yet, past homes from previous experiences. Maybe when I was a little five year old, Winnipeg was my home to me because it was all I really knew. Burnaby, BC became my home when I moved there when I was eight, having never wanted to leave. At one point in time, I lived in Calgary, AB, but have never truly considered that a home but rather a temporary placement. Who knows, maybe London, Paris, Florence or even Lima may be the place I call home sometime in my life. Maybe, home isn’t necessarily a physical place, but a person, suggested in the teen romance novel, Anna and the French Kiss by Stephanie Perkins (a great read if you’re a total sucker for little romance novels). Maybe it’s your mom, dad, boyfriend, girlfriend, husband, wife, grandpa, grandma, brother or sister.
Either way, I hope this summer, even the rest of this year, you may find your home. Be it Edinburgh, Scotland or your best friend down the road, I hope you find it. I hope the summer of 2017 is also something memorable, filled with joy and bouts of creativity.