The Puzzle of Home

a reflection on the spaces, people, and memories that shape what "home" means and how it continues to grow with me, especially when it’s no longer a single place

It’s 7pm on a Friday night and I’m sitting in my childhood bedroom, officially done with my junior year of college. This last month was kind of crazy. Ring day, barge, banquets, final projects and exams. I haven’t sat down with my thoughts in an intentional way. It’s hitting me right now that when I step back on campus next fall, I will be a senior, in the final stretch of my undergraduate degree.

I remember high school graduation like it was yesterday. I’m stuck in a weird limbo between being proud of how far I’ve come, so close to graduating with the degree I have fought literal blood sweat and tears for at the university of my dreams, but fearful that I’ll leave stones unturned and won’t make the most of these four years.

But that’s such a ridiculous sentiment to feel. My classes were hard and I went through some of the most unprecedented personal challenges that I didn’t ever think I’d overcome. I joined organizations that were important to me and I like to think I’m leaving my legacy. But above all, I know I’ve had a good time because of the people in my life.

I’ll be okay with not having to fight for my life during registration or spend 12 hours in the ECE tutoring lounge because there is a bug in my code or take the weird exams scheduled for 7pm on a Thursday. But I will miss having some of my most favorite people in a one mile radius, one phone call away from dropping unfinished homework to go to Cabel’s for $8 teas.

I’ve been sitting in the in-between lately—between semesters, between cities, between versions of myself. But what I’ve come to really internalize this year is that home is less about a place, and more like a puzzle—one that keeps growing with every new chapter.

Home hasn’t been a place in a while. I love coming home, knowing my parents will try whatever my most recent hyperfixation recipe is and my brother will reluctantly let me lay in his bed and show him my reels while he tries to play a video game with his friends. But outside of my family, my grandparents and extended family are in India, another piece of my home. My childhood friends, the ones from what I consider my “home”town, well we’re in our early phases of adulthood. All of us at different universities, companies, achieving our dreams in various industries and academic paths, making the world a better place one day at a time. My sense of home is scattered, across all the different cities in which those near to me are planting their roots.

Right now, the biggest place that feels like home is campus. From the buildings off speedway to the various apartment lounges around wampus, most of my closest friends gather in those spots. The same way we gathered at the lunch table in high school.

And as I approach my last year at this school, I realize the pattern continues.

Maybe that’s what home has always been—a puzzle. When we’re younger, the pieces are simple: a house, a family, a few friends, a neighborhood coffee shop or the elementary school playground.

But the older I get, the more pieces I collect. Some are people I’ve met in lecture halls and late-night study sessions, others at the 26th street food trucks after a long night out. Some are places. Like the bench outside Burdine where I sat after a particularly tough exam and decided to keep going anyway or my friends’ beds where we laid and discussed serious matters, like the state of the world and what we wanted with our lives, but also the frivolous delusions of what city we would throw a bachelorette party in despite being incredibly single.

Each piece adds a new color, a new shape.

Some connect instantly. Some take time to find their fit. And some don’t stay forever, but they were part of the picture while they were there. There’s something beautiful about the bigger picture that we often forget, so occupied in our present.

There’s my freshman year dorm, my first home away from home. There’s the Union rooftop where we took Garba photos because the sun hit just right during golden hour. The tower lawn where we sat after freshman year and reflected on how we’d grown as people. The streets of downtown we explored trying to find the best coffee shop to study at or a good happy hour deal. There’s the living room couch of my last apartment where we did so much karaoke and Just Dance and the dining table of this apartment that heard many a 3am conversation.

And the people. The ones who danced with me at a club, cried with me after midterms, stayed up late with me debugging code or just spiraling about life. It truly is that people make the place. They are pieces of home now too. Not because of proximity, but because of what we’ve shared.

And maybe there's different ways to think about what home is. Maybe each chapter of your life is a new puzzle, one with a different home. Maybe they all connect together in some mysterious, magical way. I don’t know all that just yet, but one thing I do know is your home, your inner circle, the cities you hold near and dear, however you conceptualize this puzzle, it gets more intricate and complex with each new friend, adventure, and memory. Home isn’t a place. It’s a mosaic of people, places, and moments we carry with us.

As my semester and year is over, I’m looking ahead to the next pieces of my puzzle and this summer I’m adding a new city to the picture. I’ll be in Charlotte, out of Austin for the longest I’ve ever spent away since 2007 and I’m eager to see what the 10 weeks brings. New city, new people, new challenges, new experiences.

I’m excited to see the people who I call home scattered around the world, chasing their goals in every city that welcomes them this summer. I can’t wait to regroup in the fall, sharing our stories and setting our sights high to make our last year together the most worthwhile and memorable.

I may be far from my childhood bedroom for a little while, but I’ll be carrying the whole puzzle with me—the people, the places, the laughter and late nights—ready to find where the next pieces fit.

You’ll be hearing from me soon, maybe a Junior Year wrapped, my take on Charlotte, or just a collection of thoughts I decide to put on paper.

lots of love,

Adrita