Well, sort of.
What is home?
I haven't lived in the town where I was born for 45 years (and actually, that wasn't a town, but officially, an Air Force base hospital, perhaps a sign of things to come...). I have never considered calling that "home."
At Christmas time, I will visit the town where I grew up, where a few family members and friends still live- but I'll spend my days as a guest in other's houses and my nights in a hotel room. Although it is familiar and a favorite place of mine, I no longer consider it "home".
Sure, "home" would be the place where I live right now. But depending on what day of the week, that might change, too. No matter what side of the border I am in, when I leave, I say I'm "going home." I qualify my home by location, but recognize the temporal nature of that, too. I mean, a quick count reminds me that I have lived in at least 20-something homes in my life.
In her commentary on homesickness, Jen Pollock Michel writes,
"As writer Julian Barnes put it in his novel Nothing to Be Frightened Of, we live with “the vicious awareness that this is a rented world.” The grass withers, and the flowers fade: Ours is an impermanent life. At the very least, home is a steadying consolation when the lights go out."I confess, I am easily homesick. My husband teases that I really can't be away from normal life for more than a few days. I think he exaggerates, but I certainly recognize the truth in that statement. I do love to travel, and I do love to return home...
wherever that may be.
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