“How many places have I called home
How many places do I feel at home
How many cities have I traveled and thought, “I’m home”
How many towns have I wandered through and said, “I could make this my home”
The flat stretches of farm land where you can see the sun from start to finish
Home
The steeples and stained glass of every church I’ve entered
Home
The smell of incense burning on an altar
Home
The first touch of your hands and feet on a sticky yoga mat
Home
The mist of ocean air on cool bay
Home
The mustard greens, a golden yellow blanket nestled under the grape vines
Home
The river with a bend on a cool night. A walk with a friend sharing your stories of life well lived
Home
A ballpark, the sound of the bat as it connects with a child’s dream of becoming bigger than the stars she wishes on at night
Home
The smell of the jasmine flower
The ache of your cheeks from a long laugh
The taste of a tear as rolls past your lip
A long hug that holds you the way the earth holds the grass
The sound of the front door
The “Hello” that says you are
Home”