I spent a lot of this winter in an in-between space. I am no longer a high schooler, but I have a lot of friends who are in high school. I no longer live in my childhood home, but I am currently sleeping in the room that I slept in for my whole childhood. In between Christmas and New Years (yes, I know I'm jewish).
This all got me thinking about what I think of as home. Surely my house in Illinois is still a little bit of a home. But so is my dorm room at school. And so is my synagogue. And so is my camp. I chose to have a lot of "homes away from home" as a child. Is it the people who make a place your home? That could certainly be true about most of them. But I'm not entirely sure. Why is it that my synagogue felt the most like home? Could it be because it was the only place where I wasn't stuck in the "in-between space"? My relationship with the people and the place of the synagogue is evolving for sure, but it will always be my home no matter how far away I end up.
Maybe the uncomfortability of the in-between space is good for us. Maybe it teaches us when to move on and emphasizes our need to grow. But once and and while, it's nice to just come home.