So... this word is a crazy mixed up business. The more life I live the more it gets mixed up. There were days when I knew where my home was, even if it did change from time to time. It was one place. I have lived with family, friends, acquaintances, and my wife. All have been homes. Sometimes home was what ever place I was, and others, the place I was not. Home seems less and less a specific location as I get older. However, I am about to purchase my first house. I have very little attachment to this property today, but Monday it will be the single biggest item I have ever put money toward. It will still not be my home. I will put all my other belongings in it. Still not my home. My Family will live there. That might do it, but I'm not sure. Home is an odd place/idea.
I hear "this is not my home." I'm seeing more truth to that than ever. Maybe the more homes you have the more you see yourself as a citizen of another kingdom altogether. I'm strange, and I look forward to my alien homecoming.
I'm Not Who I Was
1 year ago