Where is Home?

I have moved 20 times since I was five years old. Five times it was to a different state, with four of those times being to a state in a different region.

I’ve had routine moves, where movers or a group of my friends would grab everything and in the course of a day or two, I’d find my life restarted in a new place.

I’ve also had very unusual moves. I’ve moved during Christmas, in snow, while very sick. I’ve moved during a blizzard. I was even in the middle of moving out of the metro DC area during 9/11, securing the last moving van before rentals were shut down as a matter of security.

I’ve moved after living somewhere for as long as 15 years or as little as a week. I’ve moved alone or with my whole family. No 2 moves are exactly alike, but one constant is, it’s always hard and I always miss something. Another constant is, the more times I’ve moved, the more I identify with the Neil Diamond lyric about no longer belonging:

LA’s fine but it ain’t home

New York’s home, but it ain’t mine no more.

I find myself wondering where home is. Is it where I grew up? Is it wherever my wife and I are together? I honestly don’t know

Chicago

My top pick for home is suburban Chicago, sometimes known locally as Chicagoland. I was born in the city of Chicago, and lived in the suburbs for just 5 years, but I was happiest there, and I still have family all over the area.

I love the food of Chicago, the attitude, the feel. It’s not the same place I spent every Easter, Christmas, and summer vacation when I grew up. I don’t even recognize my boyhood home or the neighborhood anymore, but a lot of it is the same, and I’m proud to be from there.

Could I live there again? I don’t know. I certainly don’t seem like a local anymore, and haven’t for a long time.

Milwaukee

I grew up there, hating every second of it, wanting to go home to Illinois. But after college, when I was on my own and had friends and a girlfriend, things felt different.

I’ve spent most of my life in Wisconsin. I don’t miss the homes I’ve lived in much, but miss places I would go, and my friends. So many friends. And good memories to go with the bad. The place for me, I think, is bittersweet. Going back I can avoid the bitter and savor the sweet. The bitterness is always inside me.

Frederick, Maryland

I didn’t like living in the DC metro area. It’s crowded and expensive and driving is a nightmare. But Frederick was nice. It’s like a big, very old, small town even though it’s the second biggest city in Maryland (Baltimore being the biggest).

I liked being in Frederick. I liked places in Frederick, like the Mountain View Diner and the many historic antique shops, some with items older than the country. I liked being there with my young family. But it never felt like home. And after a year, we moved on.

Marlton, New Jersey

Near Cherry Hill, New Jersey, just across the river from Philadelphia, and an hour south of New York City, Marlton is a quiet historic town with easy access to everything. My family loved it there. My favorite picture was taken there. The people were nice and the food was good, especially at places like Franco’s, where because we were regulars with a young child, the owners fed us to ridiculous excess every time we came.

As with Chicago, it’s not the same since we left, but my family and I miss it. I hope to have reason to return one day.

Florida

My wife grew up here, not in the city where we live now, but in the state. She’s glad to be back, and I’m learning where things are. The people have been nice, and it’s pretty, but very foreign to me, and I believe I am equally foreign to it. How can it be 74 degrees in late November? How can there be so many people but so little crime?

This place feels least like home, but new places always have. I’ve never liked settling in, never liked being lost. I’m used to living near water, but the water was always to the east, not west. I no longer know up from down. But this may change. Maybe one day, this will feel like home.