I am not a homeowner Pt. II.

Each column represents a different country I’ve lived in. Each mark in those columns represents a differentt home I’ve lived in, the height of which is correlated to the length of time spent within it.

In every country I’ve lived, I’ve lived in multiple homes. Two homes in Peru, two homes in Portugal, seven in the US. When I was younger I didn’t hold much attachment to places, but I’ve realized as I’ve gotten older, the more I do. Something about ‘moving out’ episodes when they come on tv really hits me hard, and when I heard my parents say they were selling the last apartment we lived in, I was strangely devastated. I had finally felt like Baltimore was my home; I had finally gotten over the loss of the previous apartment, and the strange thing was that I had never really lived there permanently. My parents moved into it when I left for college, but everytime I came back to visit it felt like a refuge. And maybe it wasn’t even the apartment, but an urge for stability. I don’t really have that now though honestly, maybe I’m getting back to my young carelessness and lack of attachment. I don’t know where the next place I’m going is after graduating, so maybe I’m more worried about that and leaving my friends than feeling a sense of loss over my physical space. There’s a balance, but maybe this is just a cycle that I’ll go through for my whole life--moments of restlessness and not caring versus caring too much and attaching myself to my surroundings. I think it’s circumstantial, but that’s a part of life.