theluckiest.net

#008; is home where the heart is?

“Where we love is home, home that our feet may leave, but not our hearts.”

I read a post this morning at Ashish, about a summer of DC firsts. Apparently the blogger’s lived here for 16 years and wants to take part in some decidedly DC things before the summer’s out. I know that feeling, and am unabashedly ripping off the idea. Only difference being, a bunch of these things I’ve done before, I just want to be sure I get to them this year, because you never know when it just might be your last (in the Capitol). My list includes…

  • Every Monday evening spent @ Screen on the Green on the National Mall (though, they still haven’t announced the films for this year)
  • As much karaoke as my housemates can possibly handle
  • Spending at least one day by the Tidal Basin
  • Spend many days with a blanket in Dupont Circle with a good book
  • Go for runs after work through Georgetown
  • Happy hours with friends @ Tony and Joe’s on the waterfront
  • At least one ridiculous evening @ Cantina Marina
  • Found the DC Tweetup Book Club
  • Finally visit Old Town (I’ve never been!)
  • Try Peruvian chicken in VA
  • Nationals games!
  • Eat at Lebanese Taverna

I want to add as much to this list as possible – my mum says it best when she says you’re never just stuck in your own head, with your own thoughts, if you’re too busy to bother thinking. What are your suggestions for essential DC summer activities? Paddle boats? Running trails?

I suppose there is a larger catalyst for this than the above mentioned post, though. A theme that has somehow managed to weave it’s way into my everyday life without my notice. That is the question of what is home. What makes a place feel like home? If it’s where the heart is, than I have no home or a dozen, depending on how you look at it. If it’s a question of family, than DC can never be my home, simply my place of residence. If it’s history and passion for a place, than I don’t know how anywhere (besides perhaps Rome) that can match my love of this city. But I’ve never been sure how I’ve defined it, and I find myself faced with very real questions concerning such a definition.

What would you do if you were offered a rent-free, year round summer holiday-esque existence, but it meant picking up what roots you’ve carefully laid down, and starting over before you know that you’re ready to do so?

Until I figure that out, I want to enjoy this place – home or not – as much as is possible. So tell me, what would you do?

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