A little over a year and a half ago, during the ending days of the hot summer of 2014, I said my final goodbye to a place I called home for 11 years. This past home of mine was an island that rests off the southwest coast of Florida called Marco Island. This is the place that holds my childhood memories and adolescent experiences. A place where I grew up consistently seeing the same faces and building close relationships with people I still think about and some who still stayed close. A place where change was either really rare or over publicized. Days were spent running around practically barefoot without a care in the world and nights were spent on the beach, talking to tourists that couldn’t believe a place like this had full-time residents. There were only two grocery stores and easily accessible public transportation wasn’t really a thing. There were sunny days evenly distributed amongst rainy ones, the smell of sea breeze and occasional red tide, and more ice cream shops then we probably needed but I didn’t complain. We didn’t really worry about forgetting to lock our doors when we left the house and every one knew each other, or of each other, and/or was somehow related. It was special. It was beautiful. It was home.
Sure, there are plenty of people that adore Marco Island for their own reasons of internal satisfaction, and I think that’s wonderful. However, for me, amongst all the things there were to be appreciative about living in a place like that, I perhaps longed for different things then what my little island could offer me. I’ve concluded that a lot of it has to do with my upbringing, which was a little more different and unconventional then your typical family. I was raised by a single Dad, who I vouch for as the best Mr. Mom any daughter could ask for. He is a pilot, who was born in New York City, raised in New Jersey, and educated in Maryland. It was there that he met my mom and created me but through a devastating loss, our family of three became two. So, we packed our bags and trickled down the coast to Marco in need of my loving grandparents and brighter days. As my childhood progressed, I grew up considering my Dad as my best friend and we were as thick as thieves. The same zest for life that filled his soul quickly filled mine and we had such great adventures. I fell in love with the countryside of foreign lands, the crisp mountain air of the Appalachians, and the exciting pace of various cities. With every new adventure, my perception of the world grew. My open mind flourished and I began to see how much there was to be discovered.
Overall, I would always spend a lot of my time in the New York/New Jersey area. Thanksgivings with family in Montclair and summers at sleep away camp Upstate. The more I visited, the more I became fascinated with New York City and the more I felt at home. Halfway through the age of 17, when it came time to start thinking about the life I wanted for myself, I started intensely reflecting on the 11 years I had spent in Florida. I knew I cherished them, but I also knew that it could no longer offer me the growth I desired. Being that college in general was my next planned step, I began to question what type of “experience” I wanted in this new chapter. Did I want traditional? Did I want unique? Did I want mountains? Did I want the city? I applied to ten schools. Four in Florida, as in-state backups. Four in North Carolina, to connect with more family and the crisp mountain air from my childhood adventures. One in Maryland, to honor legacy and my mother and one in New Jersey, because Montclair was always there, like a home away from home that so effortlessly pulled me in like a lost teenager looking for spontaneity and a place she belonged. (Also, because I adore my Aunt Jillian and college in New York City isn’t an affordable plan for everyone.) Four out of the ten schools rejected me and I secretly had already rejected seven out of the ten before I even got any responses. That left me with a favored three out of ten. In the end, Maryland rejected me. No hard feelings, I’m still a Terps fan. And the choice became narrowed down between a university in the chiseled and enchanting mountains of North Carolina and a university that settled so sweetly just outside of NYC, in an artistically driven suburban town: Montclair State.
Clearly and ultimately, I ended up in Montclair. For some, Montclair is their home away from home but for me, it is simply now just home. There’s a reoccurring question I get from every new person I meet once they find out where I came from: why here, why Montclair? Well, for the same reason why anyone voluntarily leaves a place they once lived: to discover, to experience, to explore, to change and I can promise over the past year and a half I have felt all of that and I continue to every day. I have shaped my college experience into the version I always wanted it to be by merging city life with traditional college aspects. Sure, it’s different for everyone. I’ve met people here that have no intention of calling the city or anywhere close to the city “home.” I’ve also met people that, like me, have every intention to. Though I must admit I appreciate Florida’s generous eighty degree weather a little bit more now during the midst of this winter’s stingy five degrees, I wouldn’t have traded this past year and a half for anything different. I’ve found an environment that pushes me to live for truth, passion, and purpose. That has provided me with relationships with talented and beautiful minds who hold such unique and artistic voices. That has opened my eyes to the beauty, relief, and satisfaction in “finding your people”.
Bottom-line, there’s a home out there for everyone. To me home is more then just a location: home is the people that make you feel whole. It is the comfort in knowing you’re where you belong. It inspires you to be the best version of yourself. It gives you opportunity and inspires your dreams instead of dulling them. Now I’m not saying I’ll stay in this area forever. Who knows where I’ll end up some years from now, whether it still be here or somewhere else. But that’s the beauty of freedom and not confining yourself to anything except what truly satisfies you and makes you happy. It all depends on my goals and what I want for my life in that moment because overall, home is simply establishing the life you want for yourself. That can be a constant change for some or in the same place for others, but no matter where that may be, whether it be now or later in your life, I hope you ultimately find the same fulfillment that I feel lucky enough to say I’ve found.
I hope you, at some point, get to experience what it’s like to finally feel at home. After all you know they say, home is where the heart is. And home is wherever you long to be.