It's been about quite a few months since I completed this piece, and I'm returning to it now to do some minor revisions as I post it, and I still find comfort in these words and in the friendships I have described. If anything, my homes have become more fluid and less tangible since writing: I have once again moved away from a place I felt was home, and instead find comfort in TV shows like cupcake warms and the same ice cream every night. The regularity of video phone calls with my parents, and the interactions I can expect daily. I don't think the feeling of being home or not being home is going to leave me soon, and I am starting to accept that. I feel less like I need to have a building I can call home, and more like I need to have a state of mind I can relax in. A place that I know I can relax and be home. That place in my mind is influenced by where I am, by my friends who surround me, and by my family, wherever they may be. I hope to return to this piece and write more about how it has changed and developed since then, but for now, I'm happy to let my home remain ambiguous, and completely inside my head.