Thankfully, I am fortunate enough to consider my “home” my actually home address. For some, however, this is not the case. When asked what my idea of home was, I immediately thought back to my whole family sitting around our dinner table and the stories, smiles, and laughs that are shared. After working at the Patrick Henry-Village children who may not have seen their childhood home in many years, my perception of “home” had changed.
I have realized that even though 79 Nautilus St. was where I found my comfort, it was really what was under that roof that I truly consider “home”. It was not until I went abroad to another continent that I realized, even if I am not under that roof, or my sister moves into a new house while my other sister moves houses again, the love, support, and laughs follow us everywhere. Yes, I am thousands of miles away, and the connections or time zones keep us apart. However, our love and support for each other remain the same, if not grow stronger.
Working with the children at the Patrick Henry-Village has opened my eyes to the real issues in life. The children, unfortunately, were forced to understand the true meaning of “home” at such a young age. They are not thankful for their house, they are not thankful for their community. No, these are things some of these children have never even had the opportunity to grow feelings for. Because of this, all they know is family. The interaction and conversations I had with them has made me realize that no matter what anyone goes through in life, how far you move from home, or what experiences you have been through, the irreplaceable feeling you have towards your loved one is something no one will ever be able to take away.