Whenever I sit down and begin to get quiet, it seems like there is always something that comes popping into my mind, shattering the notion that I have this quiet space where I can retreat to, leaving me with the notion that there is something left undone. Something that if only I could focus on it I could solve all of my hassles, make things fit together in a way that makes sense, giving me the feeling that by resting my thoughts I can rest my mind and body.
And so this morning I am thinking about an e-mail from a friend in Michigan asking when am I coming home? Home? Where is home? Is it in Michigan where I live 7 months of the year, on a fruit farm, where I feel at home as I am surrounded by beautiful orchards, old friends occasionally, scattered relatives? Or is it here in Florida, where I am surrounded by new friends? In Michigan I am connected to my friends and relatives by the wonder of the internet, and e-mails, but that is even more true here in Florida. Wherever I go I am connected by thoughts of love and friendship.
When I am at my Creative writers group, I say I need to go home now. Yet when I am visiting someone in Michigan, I leave them to go home to the farm. It is all a question of semantics, I have come to believe. When I lived in Colorado, that was home. When a woman marries, she changes her name usually, and she also changes her home.
So there is only one way to look at it. No matter where we are, no matter what state we currently reside in, no matter how long we are there, Home is where the heart is at the current time. I feel very fortunate that there have been so many places in my life where the heart truly was. And still is, I must add. The memories are a gift from God.