Home

I've been thinking a lot about home--where it is, what it means.  I thought about it yesterday when the flight attendant said, "San Antonio" in a lilting voice, how I love this city and the people and places that make it what it is.

After five weeks away, it was good to land yesterday, to be met and picked up by my friend Pam, then delivered to my house and have her come inside and enjoy the first sighting of my newly upholstered furniture with me, delivered in my absence. Home is the place where a good friend meets you when you return and who oohs and aahs with you about what's new!

Sweet Kate next door had stacked five weeks of mail neatly and watered and trimmed my yard, and it felt good to walk into a clean house through a neat yard--making it easy for me to relax and plan Elena and Nathan's Halloween party Monday night. Home is the place where you have great neighbors.

Home is the place that holds your memories with you, the place where your tribe lives.  Cecelia called to offer me a much-needed massage, which I had this afternoon before heading to New Braunfels to celebrate Sharon's birthday together in a few minutes.

Home is also other places: Carlene's house where we can sit and talk and rest for hours; Day's beautifully remodeled house; Linda and Steve's table and sailboat; bright yellow leaves in New England whirring past as Mike and I look out the windows of his truck.

The first day back, I'm sort of dumbstruck, between Here and There, not quite sure what to do first, missing There and Them while looking forward to settling back with my people Here. I woke up from a nap wondering which borrowed room I was in, only to discover I was in my own bed in my own little room.

The refrigerator is virtually empty--except for bottles of kombuhca--so I got in the car last night and drove to a fast-food place for a late-night snack.  Tony gave me my free coke and reached out the window to squeeze my hand.  "I've missed you!" he said.  Home is where, when you return to it,  somebody has missed you.


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