Home is where the love is

(written earlier tonight during UA 863 from JFK to SFO)

Anyone who's known me for a while knows that I've always struggled with the concepts of "home" and "belonging". Other than the normal anxieties surrounding identity and cross-cultural immersion that come with every immigrant child's experience, I've tacked onto that a somewhat transient lifestyle that has taken me to over 20 countries and 100+ cities over the last 10 years. In the last year alone, I spent over half of my weekends out of town -- basically anywhere else but at home. And though my "home" has been San Francisco for the last 5+ years, it still takes me a split second to process and another one or two sentences to explain to any stranger where I'm "from".

But in the last few months, one thing has become clear -- home doesn't refer to a physical place, but rather an emotional place where you feel unconditionally welcome, happy, and safe. In the company of my family and my friends in Vancouver, San Francisco, New York and beyond, I've found home. My physical residence is just an address. Love is what makes any place a home. I am grateful to everyone who has formed a part of my home. You have all showed me that when a major part of my "home" fell apart with a breakup, you are all more than able and willing to make up the difference. You've also reminded me that love doesn't always or only come in the romantic form. And for that I thank you.

And as I think of all of you while I type this note somewhere over the continent on a flight to San francisco, I already feel like I've come home...