Whenever I get together with my Roanoke friends in the Queen City, I'm always a little re-energized with the thought that we all moved here with one goal - to get out from our little bubble we called 'home'. Home. It's a word we never give much thought to until we're not quite sure what or where to call home. 

When I moved to Charlotte, I was filled with nerves. Between the whirlwind of finding a place to live (kinda important, right?) to actually getting my stuff here post Thanksgiving (chaos, to say the least), it took me awhile to actually feel at peace with a new city and a new home. As I've hit almost 10 months of living in the Queen City (whoa...), I've come to terms with the idea that this place, this new city, this is now my home.

When I went back to Roanoke for Labor Day weekend, I slept in my bed, in a room that was still filled with a variety of my things - my dusty homecoming queen crown to the handwritten notes and concert stubs I saved from high school. But it wasn't the same. Here I was surrounded by years of nostalgia, but I felt torn. Yes, I was 'home', but it didn't quite feel like home. My home is Charlotte now. I have never felt more at peace at actually saying that than I am now. So Charlotte, thanks for welcoming me with open arms. I'm now officially ready to start calling you home...