Home Sweet Home

 My mom and me in New York over Christmas

“Home is where the heart is”, how true that saying is.  After living on my own for almost seven years, four of which were in college and the other two and a half in my own apartment in Hoboken, I still consider “home” to be wherever my family is.  There is nothing like the anticipation leading up to a trip home; to drive down the familiar streets, to play with my dog in the yard and be surrounded by loved ones, whether it is childhood friends or family.  Driving down Main Street there is a memory around every bend; past Memorial Field where I was a camp counselor during the dog days of summer, over the hill by my high school where I first learned to drive in the parking lot and finally on to my house where my mom created an environment filled with love and encouragement.

My Papillon, Rosco

I don’t make it home as often as I would like but when I do it is usually for a major holiday, this time Easter.  I come from a large Italian family; my grandma and grandpa, 3 uncles, 2 aunts and a million cousins on my mom’s side.  Everyone is loud, talking over one another in order to be heard, cracking jokes and catching up at the dinner table.

My grandparents and me at my college graduation

In our family we have our own traditions; the “bunny” drops off baskets in the morning, followed by dinner at 2:00 (same time every year!) which includes ham, sweet potatoes and homemade dessert (this year chocolate covered strawberries and éclairs), then everyone gathers around in the living room to tell the stories of their childhood which I now know by heart.  But it doesn’t matter how many times I have to hear these stories because it means that I am home.

--Sarah Sanzari