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Although I had a true realization of what it was to be a woman in a culture that at times can be oppressing towards my sex. I had a realization of what it was to be a woman, just a woman. When I figured out what that truly meant I realized that I had to be what a woman was, a strong, caring, protective, and undefeatable being. For me to be what it was I wanted to, I had to leave what I had always known, and what I had over time learned to resent. I resented what it stood for but my home, my true home is a place I could never truly hate or resent. The people I’ve met, and the family I had will always be what I think of when I remember home.
There is a saying that “Home is where the heart is.” For the first time in my life I understood it. My home was my friends, my loved ones, and my books. They were always with me. Their comforting words, the stories they told which made me laugh, cry, smile, and even shake in suspense stayed with me. They were there the moment I walked out of my home and turned back to face it for the last time. The memories may have occurred in this physical location but they would never be truly taken away from me. They would stay in my heart for ever, and that was exactly how long I planned to keep them with me.