I’ve been having one of those days that typifies my love/hate relationship with being in the house I grew up in. There’s the comfort of a day spent in pajamas, reading novels and eating my mother’s cooking and generally indulging in the life of a bum. Then, there’s the aggravation that parents have a unique way of inflicting on their child(ren). A week from now, I will be far from this home, making what will hopefully become a new one. Can we keep multiples homes at once, or do we spend our lives oscillating between different ones until reaching some resting state?
Many people are concerned with this notion of “home” – what it is, where it ends, and when it morphs. Count me among them!