They say home is where the heart is. For what it's worth, whoever they are, they aren't wrong. I have been on a crazy journey throughout life. Of the many lessons life has taught me is that home is not necessarily where we are from, or a destination we are headed to. Home is not necessarily the family we know. It can be all of those things, but the rules are not hard and fast.

I should have had an absolutely crappy childhood. At 3 years old, I was adopted by the parents who I knew as my own for the rest of my adolescence. My dad and I argue about whether or not I was lucky. He insists it was fate, but I say it was both. Those people I grew up with? They are my family. We have had some issues, but definitely, they are family. Where they are? Not home.

Where I grew up was a small community. It barely qualified as a town; it was more of a village, really. It was cold and miserable. When I moved to Seattle, the nearest city, life was better. It was still cold, just a little less miserable. Still not home, and still not happy. Then, I sold everything, hopped a bus and moved to New Orleans.

New Orleans was the best decision I ever made. When I left, I really just needed to escape my confines, so I went on a whim and a dream. The reality, though, was even better than the dream. New Orleans is one of a kind. It is one of the oldest cities in a country that only glorifies the modern, but still not old enough in the world to be an old city. It's romantic and nostalgic and I loved every minute of it. The good, the bad, and the in-between.

But was I home? The simple answer is yes, but what is more important is how I know.

When people can't go home for the holidays, they think about a place. Often it is a childhood home. Sometimes, it is with a loved one who they are away from (sometimes because they went to that childhood home without the loved one). Food others, it is simply wherever their spouse and child are because they have to be separated for some reason. I, myself, am never lonely during the traditional holidays. I don't even really care that my family doesn't invite me anymore.

Today is Mardi Gras. Today I am lonely. Today, I long for New Orleans more than ever. I miss the culture, my friends, and the family I found there. I am pissy, angry, and hurt all because I can't be there. I can not go home for the holidays.

That is how I know. If you are still looking for your home, try this. Think about your important time of the year. Then, think about where you always want to be just then. For me, that tells me home. It might not work for everyone, but what is the harm in trying?