Through my involvement in advocacy for youth homelessness, I have learned well that sharing your story can be a very difficult task when you are still unsure of its “ending” or, for that matter, of its “beginning.” There is often a similar amount of uncertainty encircling the word “home.”
When putting my own memories, experiences, and empathy to work in helping to design a sanctuary for other homeless young adults, I knew that we could not provide a true, permanent home within our shelter alone. I still had to ask myself, what even is “home”?
Home is where you are safe. It is where you are stable and secure.
Home is where you are able to decompress. It is where you are able to be at peace and reflect.
Home is where you are able to compose yourself. It is where you are able to wash away the stresses from the day and adorn your armor for the next.
Home is where you are able to rest. It is where you are able to sleep and to dream.
Home is where you are free. It is where you are able to be your most vulnerable—and your most strong.
Home is not a place, but a feeling.
Y2Y is a shelter, not a home. We can only provide a space of safety and not a complete solution. But we hope that our sanctuary may be able to serve as an oasis. Not an ending, but a place of renewed energy and calm. One that may be found in moments that feel the way home should.
