Are You Home?

Home. A simple word with an extremely complex meaning. A word that means something different to everyone. A word that can change its meaning at the drop of a hat.

What do you think about when you think of the word home? Is it the place you live? The house you grew up in? Your mom and dad, significant other, pets? Is it the smell right before a rainstorm in the middle of summer? Is it the view of the ocean from a rooftop? For me, home is an emotion. Home is where the heart is, where your heart is.

I remember the first time ever feeling ‘home’. I was seventeen years old and my dad took me on a trip to Seattle. I was obsessed with Nirvana at the time, and it seemed like the best place for a teenager with crippling depression to get away for a weekend. Somewhere I could enjoy myself. I spent the entire trip in awe of the city. It wasn’t the city itself that I was enamored with, it was how I felt there. There was a freedom that I had never felt before. Something inside that I just can’t explain. For the first time in a very, very long time, I felt like I had a place where I belonged.

The last day of our trip, we got up early to have breakfast at Pike Place Market, we got some pastries from a vendor and the best tangerine juice I’ve ever had in my life. We walked up some stairs to a lookout where you could see the Puget Sound all around you and the ferry boats shuttling back and forth, it was August but there was still a crispness in the air. I remember looking out at the sound that morning and thinking, for the first time in my life, ‘this is my home’.

Nearly ten years later and I have not forgotten that feeling.

I went back this year. As soon as the plane landed I was at ease. I was home. This was only my third time being here and yet no place had ever felt more like home. I’ll be honest, I was nervous that it may have lost that feeling, because the last time I went was almost exactly a year after the trip with my dad didn’t go as planned. I decided, at eighteen, I was selling everything I owned and moving up there with just my guinea pig and whatever else would fit in my car. I had about $2000 to my name, and I was convinced I was going to make it work.

I got a cheap hotel room at an extended stay hotel in Kent which is about 20 or 30 minutes outside of Seattle, and thought that’ll be fine. I’ll only need it for a week, I’ll have a place to live in no time. What I wasn’t prepared for, is how my anxiety would react to my move. I hadn’t really driven in a city before and, trust me, Seattle is not the place to practice if you’re anxious. It was very intimidating. So, I started focusing on the outskirts a bit more; North Seattle, West Seattle, and Bellevue. I saw about three apartments and they were all relatively expensive. I ended up moving to a different hotel in Bellevue because as an eighteen year old from the suburbs, hearing people fight in the hotel parking lot was terrifying. There were a lot of things that were terrifying to an eighteen year old from the suburbs. After being there for about a week, I called my dad and told him I was coming home. I went on a big shopping spree at Bellevue Square, tucked my tail between my legs, and went on home.

I was utterly defeated. I started thinking I would never be able to go back because if my anxiety wouldn’t allow it then, it never would. Fast forward about eight years, and I’m a lot better. I can manage my anxiety and talk myself off the ledge now. So let’s go back! I just wanted to see if that spark is still there, if this was still my home.

I landed in Everrett and took an Uber to get my rental car from a place about 20 minutes north of Paine Field. When I say that the second we landed I felt at home, I mean it. I made my way through that tiny airport and just stood outside in the 60 degree, overcast weather and I almost cried. I became so overcome with relief and excitement and I felt so at ease it was remarkable. I got into an Uber with a wonderful lady who’s name escapes me, and she spent the 20 minute drive telling me everything I’d missed since I’d last visited. She was absolutely lovely. I felt like I was drifting in and out of the conversation because I was busy looking out the window of the car watching the trees and clouds, thankful for this place.

When I finally got my rental car, I spent the rest of the day driving. I went from Everett to Bellevue, where I was staying. I spent time exploring the backroads of Kirkland and Redmond. I went to my absolute favorite store of all time that they don’t have where I live; Safeway. I meandered around in my little rental car for six or seven hours just in awe. I’ve never been more at peace in my life. When I finally made it to the hotel in Bellevue, the same one I stayed at when I was eighteen, it was around five or six in the evening. I had driven around all day, only stopping for lunch and to grab some groceries to take back to the room. The hotel hadn’t changed at all. Funnily enough I got the room on the other side of the elevator from where I stayed when I was eighteen.

The following morning, I was awake by 6:30. I couldn’t tell if it was because I was excited and didn’t want to miss any time in my favorite place, or because I’m normally two hours ahead so it was really 8:30 my time. Either way, I was glad to be up that early. I went down and had a bagel and some pineapple from the continental breakfast, made myself some coffee, had a shower and then headed out to attempt the most anxiety-inducing part of my attempted move at eighteen; drive in Seattle. I’ve driven in many cities now, all different kinds of cities, but something about Seattle still seemed intimidating. I think it’s the ridiculous incline of the downtown streets. I was nervous, but I also knew that I would never be satisfied with my trip if I didn’t attempt it.

So, I’m driving down I-90 towards Seattle and I don’t feel nervous anymore, but a little on edge. I’m having a great day, great drive, so what is there to be worried about? I got off on I-5 and then 7th avenue and, for some reason, I immediately thought ‘I got this’ and turned off my GPS. The confidence I felt in that moment was unlike anything I’d felt before. Realistically though, as someone who’s most recent visit was almost 8 years ago, I did not have it. I almost immediately got lost. I was aiming for Pike Place and somehow ended up near the Interbay golf course, but I didn’t care. I pulled over and pulled up a map on my phone; still confident I didn’t need the GPS, just a nudge in the right direction. I turned around and about 20 minutes later, after traffic and roads closures and lane closures, I was parking the car (parallel parking might I add) and getting out to walk the downtown streets to Pike Place Market. I bet I looked so ridiculous on that walk. I was beaming with pride, I didn’t have a drop of anxiety in me and I thought I was going to explode I was so happy.

I wasn’t just happy because I’d overcome something that was once a huge obstacle, although it was pretty fantastic. I was even more happy that I knew I could live here. I knew I would be okay now. I was happy because home still felt like home. I still had a place in the world where I belonged. As I walked around beaming I began thinking about moving again. Not that the thought hadn’t crossed my mind in the last eight years, but now I knew I could really do it. I started thinking of how much money I needed to save, I might need to get a U-Haul this time, my dogs haven’t lived in an apartment before, would they be okay? So many thoughts whirling and I loved every second of it.