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  • I've reached the point where I'm having a hard time deciding where home is. The end of my first year at university has left me reeling, lost between the place I grew up and the city that won my heart. I have friends from both places that do not know each other, stories that I struggle to bring with me as I make the hour and a half trip between.

    But why must home be one place?

    Home is, after all, an idea that is relatively new. Our old, ancient nomadic mothers and fathers did not have this notion of having one place be home. Home to them was both everywhere and anywhere, depending on the day and the whims of the herd. Home was anywhere that the sun came up; it was not a simpler time but a time unconstrained by forced societal norms.

    Even Madison, a candidate for home, has an ever unfolding amount of new places that I have not yet been a guest, ever more space to discover and try to understand. The university campus itself contains many doors I have not entered and meals I have not tasted. Everywhere seems to be expanding, the idea of anywhere fills me with a fear of being disconnected.

    Hmm, but if I relax and take a breath, if I give myself a chance to think about all the opportunities before me, people to meet and places to make memories at, I'm filled not with despair but anticipation. Tomorrow is a day for something new.

    And what of this rock? Where is the hill it came from, the cave it crumbled and rolled out of? The rock does not worry about this, of course.

    Far from its home, it found beauty in a new place. For it, home is anywhere and everywhere.
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