Where is Home? What is Home?

This past weekend, my mother retrieved me from university to take me home. So, I went. It is the same house that I have resided in for the past thirteen years, with the same occupants. And yet, it was unsettling to realize that it did not feel like I was home. I had merely come back to my parents' house.

The Friday of this weekend, I went "home" to the junior college that I began my post-secondary studies at. For most of the time that I was there, I had always joked that it was my "home" because of how much time I spent there. I was almost surprised at how exactly like a real home it felt to go back to. Sure, I did not have a couch to crash on or a refrigerator to raid, but I had returned home to family. There is nothing quite like that feeling. ...At least, I have yet to run across it in my many years.

Part of what is unsettling about the incident to me is that I've only ever felt like that one time before. Years ago, I would delude myself into thinking that I held some sort of a relationship with an attractive young lady that I alluded to several times in most of my early posts. I cannot remember the name that I wrote for her, but I believe that she goes by "Torikabuto" at times. The point of it is that during the end of my secondary school career, I was allowed to spend a day with her. We ended up walking through a bit of the downtown area of the city where she lived, and her mother came to pick us up when we were finished. As we arrived back at Torikabuto's house (where I had parked my car), I felt an odd sense of peace wash over me as I approached the house.

It feels odd to remember such long-lost memories as that in the simple act of going back to my first college. ...Two places that I've every felt totally at ease...only one of which I may return to. It makes me question what makes us call "home" our home. Is it merely returning to a familiar house at some marked interval? Or perhaps it is not so much a specific location as it is spending time with those whose company we enjoy. The second option doesn't fit into many stereotypes about going "home," but I think that we can forgive that for the sake of argument.

I propose, at the very least, that it is a question that deserves some attention?