“What makes a home?
Cause I’m finding my home
Wherever I go,” Jelisa sings.

What makes a home is a question that’s been on my mind a lot lately.

I’ve tried filling spaces with things I love.

I’ve built tiny rich lives in different places.

I catch moments of “home,” but I can’t seem to hold onto them.

Sometimes it’s my childhood bedroom in the Netherlands.
Sometimes it’s my plants, my art, my candles in Mexico City.
Sometimes it’s walking into one of the neighborhood cafés in Bed-Stuy.
“I haven’t seen you here in a minute.”

Last time I felt the safety of a home, I was cuddled up under a blanket in front of a crackling fire in LA.

What makes a home? Not the foundation. The feeling.

Do we need a person to feel at home? Do we need to settle to feel settled? Or can you find home within yourself and keep that feeling close, wherever life takes you?

When I first played Home In Tokyo, I found myself listening impatiently. I wanted Jelisa to arrive at the end of the song. To tell me her secret.

Someone so talented, so soulful, and so seemingly worldly and at ease with herself must have figured it out. Right?

But there was no answer. It’s not always sunny, and she’s not always sure.

Maybe we’re all lost and found.