Home

I have a Van Gogh print that sits in my room. It's entitled The Bedroom. The painting is a scene from Van Gogh's personal bedroom in Arles. The colors are vivid and the picture pleasant, but it's not breathtaking. What caught my attention at the gallery, was Van Gogh's description of the painting in a letter to his brother. He mentioned how the colors were soothing because he wanted the painting to be restful to the brain since restful was what a bedroom should be. He wanted the mind to be able to breathe when it looked at this painting because you should be able to breathe in your bedroom.

I own that print because I agree with Van Gogh. Through those words and the feelings he evokes in that painting, he sums up my concept of home.

My home has become more precious to me in the past few years. I often view home as a preservation for my mind. This last semester was bad. My home was my refuge often. There were times when I would open the door to my bedroom, walk in, and simply breathe. My eyes would travel hungrily around the room taking in as much peace as I could. Here was a place where I could breathe.

I'm preparing to leave this home. I have lived in the same house for 20 years. I love this home. I know it all, and I know it well. And yet, I'm preparing to leave.

I still have one more year of classes and a semester of student teaching left, it's true. But the end of last semester made me realize, more than anything else has before, that I'm in my last days of living in this house.

I'm ready to move on. I'm ready to buy a studio, an apartment, a house, or a cardboard box of my own. I'm ready to fill out change-of-address forms. I'm ready to move to somewhere totally different, and start from scratch. I'm ready to pick out a church, make new friends, go to a different library (although all my loyalties will forever remain with this one), work a full-time job, and build up my 401k.

I know that I'm incredibly lucky. If all goes according to plan, I'll graduate without any debt and have some savings.  There's nothing holding me back from applying anywhere, being accepted somewhere (hopefully), and moving there. I'm organizing my stuff into boxes, totes, and piles. If required, I could leave this home--provided there were enough boxes for my books--with everything I own in 24 hours. I'm not expecting anything to be that fast, but I'm serious when I say I'm ready. Everything in the attic is ready to be moved into a moving van, and everything in my room, can be easily boxed up.

One of the important concepts of home is that it is not restricted to one place. A few of the others are the freedom to speak freely, the encouragement to grow, and the ability to be restful but not complacent.

I'm going to miss this particular home. I know I will, but I'm ready to create my own home from the lessons I've learned about homes in this home.

I'm not one for plaques about 'home is where the heart is', live/laugh/love picture frames, or quotes about families being displayed around the house. But somewhere in my house I want the Van Gogh print to hang because it reminds me that when you're in your home, you should be able to breathe.