Since 2009, I have moved 10 times.
10 different homes, with different sets of people, in different parts of California. Sometimes, it was with a new guy my mom was dating. Sometimes, it was near my friends, sometimes it was far. At some point, I straight up didn't have one and had to move into someone's living room.
In the last 12 months, I moved twice.
Going to college, I had a lot of reservations. Because I've been emotionally scarred by some people I've shared a house with in the past, I am reluctant to move in with strangers. Last summer, I learned about my housing assignments. I was to live in an apartment in San Jose, two bedrooms, one for two boys and one for two girls. When my housemates started a Facebook group message, I remember getting along with everyone except a girl named Kalyn. Something about her just made me really conscious. We had stupid arguments on the group chat about whose coffee maker was better (her Keurig vs my cheap Black and Decker).I immediately knew that she wasn't someone I wanted to be friends with.
Little did I know that seven months from now, she would become one of my best friends. I can't imagine college housing without her.
Kalyn's roomie and I got along too, even though during the last few months, things became hectic and we started hanging out less and less. We started on Once Upon a Time but never finished it. We always told each other that there would be time to watch later, but it never happened.
My roomie and I, however, didn't get along completely. Sometimes I would wake up to YouTube videos being played out loud in the morning, and sometimes it kept me up at night. Regardless, he's a good person. A part of me wanted to avoid confrontation so I never talked to him about my problems.
Last week, we had to pack everything we had because of my school's consolidation. Our apartment was this high-class complex that was across the street from my college. We found out that we had to move to Sunnyvale for the summer. During the weeks leading to the moving dates, I brushed everything off. "I've done this so many times", I would tell myself. It was the same old, same old for me.
But on my last night, I laid on my bed, stripped of the bed sheets and pillows and room furniture around it, and just looked at the ceiling.
I'm tired of moving.
I want to just settle somewhere. I'm tired of having to pack everything I own every few months. All my life, I've had to relocate, adapt to a new town, city, or neighborhood, then move on after awhile. My track record for living somewhere the longest is a year and a half at my mom's place right now. It's so bad that whenever I need to recall a time in my life, I have to think about where I was living at that time. Most of my friends grew up in the same place. They've been in the same house since they were kids.
But I just keep drifting away, planting my roots then getting rooted and planted somewhere else.
I'm tired of it.
Today, I live with my boyfriend, Austin, and two of my good college friends, Kalyn and Hailey. We're at a new place in Sunnyvale. Even though this place has a lot of problems like rust in the bathroom and an AC unit that doesn't work, I gotta say, it feels like a home.
Because it's the people who you live with that tells the difference between a house and a home.
After the summer, we have to pack everything and move back to San Jose. Most of the things we own are in boxes in a storage area on our patio that we refer to as the 'Murder Closet' because its sketch af. I am not looking forward to it.
But for now, I'm enjoying what moments I'll have in this home.