Home

 I left Roquessels today. It was very hard. Very emotional.
After the usual travel drama (there seems to always be some), I was speeding along in the TGV towards Barcelona, Spain.
I was listening to Spanish and French around me.
I had the thought that one week ago I left Italy and it that was then Italian all around me.
Wow.

I started to feel excited. I'm going home.
Which made me think about what that means exactly...
what is home now?
it isn't the physical house I'm going to.
I don't think it's the person I've associated home with
for all these 20 years.

So I googled it...

A home is generally a place that is close to the heart of the owner, and can become a prized possession. It has been argued that psychologically "The strongest sense of home commonly coincides geographically with a dwelling. Usually the sense of home attenuates as one moves away from that point, but it does not do so in a fixed or regular way."^[2] Since it can be said that humans are generally creatures of habit, the state of a person's home has been known to physiologically influence their behavior, emotions, and overall mental health.^[3] People may become homesick when they leave their home over an extended period of time. Places like homes can trigger self-reflection, thoughts about who someone is or used to be or who they might become.

Did that beautiful little community in France become my home?
Possibly, on some level.
I love this "Places like homes can trigger self-reflection, thoughts about who someone is or used to be or who they might become.

Home also feels like family and my closest peeps.
I miss them from deep in my belly.
This has been a good journey. A long and healing and rough and achingly sweet trip.
It was a big and bumpy and often a very lonely road.
It was also magnificent.
And gorgeous.
And full of beauty and delightful souls.

I learned a lot about myself.
I learned to like my own company. A lot.
Perhaps like a snail (or an oyster!) I carry home with me.