Many years ago while living in London, I sat on the bus after work on my way back to the HOUSE I rented on King George Avenue. For a long time I was so sensitive to the word home that I made sure I always referred to my dwelling as “the house” and not home. On that bus, lost in thought I must have had a dazed look on my face as another passenger had said to me, “You heading home?”
I couldn’t help my answer, “I’m far from home.”
This fellow passenger seemed to understand my reply (we both had non-british accents) with a nod of his head. Instead of prying for details, he let the conversation go with, “One of the last stops eh?”
I smiled and nodded as I returned to my thoughts: when will I really get to go back HOME.
I thought about this very short conversation with a stranger as I now sit on the couch with my two sons and I am back in Ohio.
In my younger childhood years I recall a popular teeshirt that had the saying “Home is Where the Heart is.”
If home is where my heart is, then my heart is in pieces.
A piece in Sweden. Another piece in England. And a big piece never left Ohio.
Or am I thinking all wrong? Home is not a location, its my heart. And my heart belongs to my family. No matter where in this world we live, home is always there. And here.
For someone who moves a lot I suppose I have to think like that.
Today’s positive thought: It’s good to be HOME.