or here:
or here:
or here:
(That would be front row at a U2 concert as Bono shakes his talented sweat all over the lucky few. ~ You didn't know sweat could be talented did you? Oh...it can. If it's Bono's.)
So, the definition of home really, could change every time you long to be somewhere new. And in my case, as a hormonal, mind changing woman....that could mean I have a LOT of homes!
So, as we travel back to the city that our house resides in, I am reminded, that today, actually, that is not my home. I do not long for this vacation to end and to go back to the same routines as we were in a month ago.
I still long for adventures. I still long to NOT cook. I still long to relax while the sound of grandparents and grandchildren's laughter fill the air.
The home IS apparently where the heart is, so I guess it makes total sense then, why I feel this aching emptiness as I pack up our four thousand suitcases, and head west, to a place that to me only really holds a house full of our stuff.
4 comments:
glad to have you back to blogworld :)
My home is with you on the beach, along with Pedro the pool boy and slushy, fruity, 'mommy-juice' drinks!!!!
Holy crap can i just say...
YES.
Seriously. Wow.
and of course Rocky had to go and get some fabulous revelation about why we are in Dallas.
shit.
Repeat after me (in a monotone voice): Home is in Kamloops, home is with gramma, Home is in Kamloops, home is with gramma....:)
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