Quite honestly home is my mom. Home is where I feel the most comfortable and where I can be myself. Home is thrift stores, breakfast at a café, and cats – usually that includes my mom. I get quite homesick while in Syracuse so I call her every day. Even when I think about the future, it involves living no more than an hour away from her. I moved around a lot as a kid, then I decided to go to college in another state, and now I am here in London, but she is my constant. My mom grounds me when I start to get crazy and stressed like most twenty-year-olds do and therefore she would have to be my definition of home, no matter how cliché that might seem.