What Does It Mean to Go Home?

In a couple of days we will be heading back to the US to celebrate our daughter’s college graduation.  The trip has sort of snuck up on me, but I’ve got presents packed, have figured out the logistics of keeping my pitiful garden (more on that in another post!) alive while we are away and have made plans with friends and family for visits while at home.

We are lucky to be going back to our house which has been well tended by friends and I’m anxious to sleep in our bed and explore the things I’ve missed.

But when I start thinking of that list it seems to have shrunk a lot.

At first I really thought I’d be dying for a salad, a burger, pizza, good cheese or a favorite restaurant.  A long walk without worrying about uneven sidewalks, unruly traffic, beeping horns, cars going in the wrong direction on one way streets, dirt and all that makes India, India.

The reality is that I do miss all that, but I’ve been just fine without all that stuff.  That’s not to say I won’t enjoy it when I’m home, but maybe home is where you are rather than what you remember.

Maybe I have two homes now.

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