Nabila

Home is breathing in the salt air as I watch the sun sets.
Home is having a song on my mind as I place my capo on my guitar fret.

Home is finding myself wandering around the mall I know so well, that I can walk in blindly.

Home is longing, longing, longing for hugs from my loved ones, missing them from afar.

Home is inevitably liking someone on a whim, like leaves falling from their home branch.

Home is falling in love with loving someone.

Home is jotting phrases down when I'm bestowed with inspiration among a sea of strangers.

Home is creating 147 playlists, dedicated to random things, points in life and people.

Home is me, me, me.

So if there's one thing I hope I never lose again: it's myself.

It's truly a privilege, a form of rizq, to find joy, find homes in cities or places my blood doesn't run in. How privileged I am to find my way home again and again after losing myself, losing my meaning of home as many times as I had; how hellish the process of finding it again. I'm shaking as I write this due to the fear of repeating the same thing, of losing myself again. But I'm writing this down here, in case I can't find my way home again.

You find home in finding yourself. You find joy in gratitude over the tiniest beautiful things God lets you experience, and in these little joys exist little homes, little sanctuaries you can shelter yourself. Home is your mom and your dad and your brothers. Home is your best friends, wherever they are. But most of all, home is wherever, whoever, whatever you put your joys in, and if you find them in even the tiniest of things, you will feel at home in more places. Home will be everywhere if you are willing to look a little closer. Home is wherever love exists and because He is in everything, love exists even in places you would never thought to look in. Home is many many things and most of all, home is you.