In Costa Rica, I have started referring to my Costa Rica home as “The House” and my Indiana home is “My Home.” After long weekend trips, coming back to San Jose is familiar and safe. It is a place where I have a house to live in, food to eat and a bed to sleep. It is a dwelling where I spend time alone in thought and study. My host family is simply wonderful, but they are not my parents. As sweet and kind as they are, they are not my family. Living with my host family is a lot like living in a Bed & Breakfast. The occupants and hosts come together from separate countries, separate backgrounds, separate ways of life. The hosts and occupants have separate lives but work together and live together in harmony. The hosts are hospitable and helpful to the occupants but separate their work from personal life.
My home is wherever my heart is. It is where the people I love are. It is where I am loved and accepted. Home is the familiar place you can always return to when you are lost and afraid with nowhere else to turn. It is the place you always find yourself coming back to after a long trip away. Home is where you seek comfort and support. Home can be several different places to one person, but it is a distinct place where one belongs and feels a sense of belonging. Is Costa Rica my home? No. Could Costa Rica be my home? Maybe so. But at the present time, it is simply the place where I am dwelling for a short amount of time.
“Home is the place where, when you go there, they have to take you in.” -Robert Frost
“Where we love is Home-Home where our feet may leave, but not our hearts.” -Oliver Wendell Homes
“Home is where the heart can laugh without shyness. Home is where the heart’s tears can dry at their own pace.” -Vernon Baker
Written by Megan Bowman, Social Media Journalist