I’ve posted this before, it’s still appropriate
My home is in Minneapolis, and also St. Paul. A place that I’ve more or less lived the last ten years of my life. With its violently miserable winters and sweltering hot summers book ending a few precious weeks of beautiful between the two. Where I’ve found fantastic love and miserable depression, and cheered on the mighty Golden Gophers throughout it all.
My home is in Portland. A place where I’ve paid rent a couple times, and crashed on couches a couple more. Where I have a small army of friends who are always up for happy hours and ping pong, food cart lunches and Sunday brunches. With its lonely gray winters, and absolutely spectacular summers that are tailor made for cookouts and trips to the coast.
My home is in Chicago. A place I’ve never actually lived. Home to my large extended family, and my much larger extended family of friends. With the cute blondes on the North Side, and blue collar hustlers on the South Side. My grandma on the west side, where Michael Jordan taught us how to play a game much bigger than basketball.
My home is on The Road. A place that exists in my mind, that’s always evolving into something new and exciting and grand. Where every smile from a stranger is an invitation that carries the promise of excitement. Where I follow my heart across mountain ranges and to distant islands; the journey is always better than the destination.