Going Home

There is a definition of home, that I particularly like.

"It's the place that when you have to go there, they have to take you."

This weekend, I went home.

The thing that is so wonderful about this place is that not only do I know it, I knew the streets and noted the familiar and the changes, but that they always take me here. They make me feel loved and wanted and of value.

That's not to say that I don't have those things other places, everyday, where I live my life, but this place, though I have been away, over five years, I am still wanted and welcomed and loved.

It is a safety net, a place of comfort. It is home.

The people that make it up are special and unique and when my heart owns them, I feel I am owned equally by their hearts. That makes them family.

So this weekend, I came home, and tomorrow I will go back to may home, but I will be leaving home to do it.

I miss my home here.

Watching movies and talking, standing in church, Sunday lunch, dinner at Perkins, watching all these children grow up, and the hugs. The hugs especially.

It is a comfort to know that while it changes, life changes, that home is still here.