But next week, when I leave Red Lodge and head back to DC, I will be heading home as far as I'm concerned, because John will be there to greet Jack and me at the airport. DC is also where my twin sister and best friend, Sarah, lives, so it's extra special. And of course I have some wonderful friends in the DC area who I can't wait to see. We may not have an actual house to live in yet, but as long as I'm surrounded by my support crew, it will be the closest thing to a homecoming as it gets for me.
Sometimes I worry about how my kids will feel growing up, with no real sense of home. Jack thinks he has houses all over the world: the Russia house, the Montana house, Aunt Sha Sha's DC house, even the Paris house we've stayed in a couple of times. He's desperately trying to understand geography right now, although the difference between a country and a state seems to be an elusive concept. This morning we were Skyping with John, who happens to be in Abu Dhabi at the moment, and Jack wanted to know what the heck had happened to Turkey (the last place Daddy was visiting). Montana has been home for the past few months, but now we're off to somewhere else for a year before we go to Peru. It's a lot for a four-year-old to grasp, and I sometimes wish he had a place that he could consistently call home. Then again, maybe growing up believing the whole world is your home isn't such a bad thing.
|Home is where you hang your hat, at least sometimes.|
What about you? What do you consider "home," and how do you make yourself feel at home when you're a million miles away?