Home is Where?

When I was staying with my friend Michelle at her parents' home in Ogden last week I became acutely aware that I don't have a home. I am currently homeless. I don't pay rent anywhere (except my storage unit in New York). Perhaps a better term would be "between residences". Which is nothing new for me. We moved a lot when I was a kid--Magna, Orem, Bountiful, Pocatello. Pocatello is where we spent the longest time, but even there we lived in three different houses. The home most associated with my childhood, the one with the nostalgic memories attached to it at 1441 Spaulding Lane, was sold and is currently being lived in by people who are strangers to me. Not that it matters; I haven't lived in Pocatello for over five years. But sometimes I think it'd be nice to be able to have my childhood home to go home to. My mom has a nice house in West Jordan, but it's not home to me. My dad lives in Brigham City, and his home is definitely not home to me. My apartment in New York was a good home, but I packed all my crap out of there. My sister's home in Taylorsville, where I'm currently staying, is very nice but she just moved in in Decemeber, so it's barely home to her. Sometimes I long for nothing more than my very own place, a place that I can decorate and get dirty and make my very own. A place that can by my own home.