When I think of home, I think of Pennsylvania. I think of the city of Pittsburgh, with its illuminated skyline and its golden bridges. I think of Oakland, with students hurrying to classes and the spires of Central Catholic rising above the surrounding buildings. I think of Squirrel Hill, where my parents were born, and where my friends and I would spend our time. I think of Frick Park, and all the late nights spent there. I think of Shadyside, and the various errands I’ve had to run. I think of the Strip District, and going shopping with my Mum at the various street vendors. I think of Downtown, and cheering the Penguins to victory in the Stanley Cup. I think of Point Breeze, and all of the CYO Basketball Games I played at Saint Bede. I think of Highland Park, and going to my friend’s house to play Mariokart and work on homework. I think of Carrick, and the hours spent at my girlfriend’s house watching football with her dad or playing with her little brother. I think of Allentown, and spending time with my girlfriend’s family. I think of Kennedy, and swimming in my Uncle’s pool listening to Johnny Cash. Finally, I think of Wexford, where I was raised. I think of a big front yard with a dog lounging in it. I think of the hours spent doing yard work and admiring the leaves changing on the trees. I think of the smell of a fresh cut lawn on a hot summer day. I think of bonfires, and the crisp smell of the autumn air. I think of rainy spring mornings, waking up early, and driving to school. I think of church on Sunday mornings followed by family lunch. I think of St. Alphonsus, and the days when recess football was the most important activity of the day. I think of my cousins and family, and hanging out on the deck barbecuing. I think of her, and the hours spent doing so much, yet so little. I think of Mum, Dad, Sam, Emily, Rusty, Storm. I think of Ryan, Will, Matt, Ryan, and Vince. I think of Simon, Nolan, Liam, Gavin, and Anna. I think of Pittsburgh. I think of Pennsylvania. I think of Home.