I’ve called a handful of places home in my life, and all of them have held a distinct space in my heart, from the riverside Wisconsin town I grew up in, to the unforgiving Arizona desert, to the surreal and swampy streets of NOLA, to our precious Chippewa Valley, and finally to my current home in Minneapolis. As lilacs have started to bloom, it’s on my ever-increasing river walks where I’ve found myself lingering on the notion of home, and the places and people who have shaped me along the way. 

When I imagine my childhood home, it’s always Christmastime. My family hosted a legendary holiday party, where folks gathered annually to catch up over brandy with a little eggnog, their cackles careening over my friends and I caroling. When I want to feel close to the person I was when I called that place home, I put on some Nat King Cole and close my eyes. 

For my briefer homes, I rely similarly on sense memory to transport me back. My time in New Orleans was short, but the impact was everlasting. It’s a city with an aggressively beating heart, and a sense of community that runs as deep as the crevices in its streets, which is what hooked me from the start. 

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there’s so much growth found in discovering and building a home right where you are.

KATY HACKWORTHY

I spent the first few years of my life in Arizona, but I also spent a few hard months there right after graduating from UW-Eau Claire. I brought with me a broken heart I hoped might be healed by the familiarity of family. I will always make the space and time to transport myself back to the home that is my grandma Jackie. Her home sounds like ice mingling with an ever filling glass of Coke, a click of a pen used for the morning crossword, and the most wonderful laugh in the world, which I still relish in over the phone as often as I can. 

When it comes to running towards something, my mind meanders to the Chippewa Valley. Countless aspects of Eau Claire feel like home: passing through the same dusty dive bar every summer afternoon just to see who was there, and staying for a chat and a Nalgene fill-up with my favorite bartender regardless; precious Saturdays spent meandering around the farmers market, laying by the river with a book, and, most importantly, the people. I’ve found so many homes in so many people within the Valley, and I will never stop being grateful for what she’s given me.

As much as Eau Claire feels like falling in love over and over again, and while I’ve spent most of my adult life calling her home, I’ve finally felt that shift. I caught up with a friend on one of the first real spring afternoons of the season, they said to me, “I want to die here, but I’m not ready to die yet.” We were sitting on a bench next to Bde Maka Ska, a mile or so from their old apartment in Uptown where we spent many afternoons together before they moved to Portland, Oregon. The way they spoke about their enduring love for Minneapolis in conjunction with their certainty they don’t belong here anymore, resonated deeply with the way I feel about Eau Claire. 

Now, it doesn’t feel like I’m coming back to my home anymore as much as it feels like a reunion with the people and places who taught me about my inherent ability to create and discover new homes everywhere I go. After almost three years, I’ve finally done that in Minneapolis, despite the way I’ve often felt a longing for the familiarity of the Chippewa River, and the many ways she’s held me. Like many who’ve found a home in a place they no longer reside, it’s easy to long for the person we were, or the way our lives were when we lived there, but there’s so much growth found in discovering and building a home right where you are. Eau Claire isn’t the place I lay my head anymore, but that doesn’t mean I won’t always think of it as one of the many places pieces of my heart have found a home. 

Maybe one day, when I’m ready, I’ll lay my head down there one final time.