come pick me up, I've landed

I've lived in a lot of places over the past four years. What started as a settled family of three in a comfy bungalow in south-western Calgary with wood panels and shag carpeting in the basement became a cross country adventure that included:

- a one-floor, three-room doll apartment that me, mom, regan and three dogs crammed into in spring of 2001. 2 other girls shared the house with us but lived in the basement. Our computer and desk, kitchen table and chairs, TV and couches were all crammed into a room smalller than my current bedroom.
- living with my grandparents in Vancouver when we first moved there (I slept on the couch)
- a townhouse in Port Coquitlam which we affectionally called "the fishbowl", because everyone in the complex knew everyone else's business
- a large, ground floor study room that became my dorm for 8 months, shared with a girl from Kewlona named Nahri who liked Audrey Hepburn and Hello Kitty
- The basement suite on William and Aberdeen, where I painted my tiny little bedroom sky-blue, and raw sewage leaked through the ceiling of our kitchen into waiting pots below
- Michael Dix's house on Vancouver Island, a stone's throw away from a secluded beach where I loved to visit and write in my diary
- 41 Toronto Street, my first real 'house'. We had a driveway, a barbeque, a real back yard with trees and lilacs and flowers, a fake fireplace that would expell heat from the furnace when you jiggled the wires right, and a family of mice that we couldn't trap all of, no matter how many we caught (fast breeding, we think)
- The 7th floor bachelorette pad that my mom moved into last year (in the same building as her parents!)
- 132 Earl Street. Gorgeous (GORGEOUS) house. Crazy landlord. Even crazier housemates
- My present location (294 Barrie) which is close to the grocery store, clean enough, cheap, and allows me to play 8-bit nintendo whenever my little heart desires.

My point is, doing all of this moving has made me realize the subtle difference between the meaning of house and home. 'House' is my walls, my shower, my fridge and my bed. House changes as I change and I'm sure it will continue to change as I move into the different stages of adulthood. Home, however, is a feeling. It needs no walls, no front lawn, no bedroom (although it may certainly be these things). Home, for me, is when Steve meets me at the bus station and envelops me in a giant hug. Home is when I'm reading to my sisters. Home is where I feel safe and loved.

I like the idea that with Steve, I'm home. That's the only place I need to be.