aaaaPlenty! But I'm not going to bog you down with my list of negatives, nor describe the stereotypes my home state wears (every state has them) that I've tried to distance myself from, as that is not the point of this article. Suffice it to say that, plain and simple, I just never felt at-home there. Of course, when I was growing up, I didn't necessarily know that I didn't feel at-home. Since it was the only home I'd ever had, it didn't occur to me that maybe that awkward, I-don't-belong, longing-for-something-I can't-quite-put-my-finger-on feeling could be attributed to the fact that I wasn't really at-home, in the emotional sense of the word. I just thought it was due to typical childhood and teenaged social dynamics: the fact that I was bad at sports and was a bookworm in elementary school, or because I couldn't afford to dress the way the popular kids did in junior high, or because I didn't know how to talk to boys in high school. I mean, plenty of kids feel left-out on the playground. It's called growing up. Not everyone can be popular.
aaaaIt wasn't until I left my hometown and state at the age of 16 to live in a major East Coast city that I discovered that that awkwardness I had been feeling my whole life was not caused entirely by adolescent drama or a clique mentality or the fact that I didn't always make the best clothing choices for my body type. Rather, I had always felt out-of-place because I was out-of-place, metaphorically as well as geographically. Outside of my immediate family, I encountered so few people in my home state who seemed to share my world views, sense of humor, value system and yearning for adventure. However, when I moved to the East Coast that year, suddenly my spirit opened up, as I realized there were other people in the world who were like me! I felt incredibly liberated! Not that I'd felt particularly oppressed before, mind you; but now, in this new city, I could give place to those interests and qualities that I'd perhaps tried previously to ignore somewhat or keep to myself, sensing that they were not valued by my peers. In short, from the first week that I arrived in that new city, I felt completely, contentedly, utterly at-home.
aaaaI have lived in many other cities, both in the U.S. and abroad, since that experience my junior year of high school, and it's often hard to say what has made some of them feel more like home than others. I used to think it had to do with how long I'd been in a place, how acquainted I was with its streets and topography, how active a social life I'd developed, which of my possessions I had with me in any given dwelling place, whether I could find familiar foods or American television shows. I still think those things play a role, as do the people you're living with, but I wonder more and more whether there isn't something more ephemeral at work, tugging at our souls in a way we can't identify, calling us to live in a particular place for no particular reason, and embracing us when we arrive. It is this force that has kept me coming back to that major East Coast city I lived in for a year in high school, where I have lived now for several years. I could rattle off a hundred glowing reasons why this is the best city in the world, the best place to live, why I love living here--but the real reason I always return is simply that it just feels like home.

To read more about the place Marni calls home, check out her city blog at http://www.hotelsbycity.net/blog/usa_washington-dc_washington/.