Home

There's no place like home. 

My parents died almost 20 years ago. I wasn't young per say, but I was too young. My kids never got to meet them so once in a while I'd share something or say "your grandpa would have..." and share some silly thing he would have done. And then I'd punctuate it with you would have loved him. It's true. They would have loved my dad's silliness and basked in my mom's love - often through baked goods. 

And the kids will never see home - my first home, where I grew up. A dusty, needs fixin' farm. 

But I believe, as souls, it was my parents' choice. And mine. Why would we choose that? Who knows? Well, our soul does if my theory is correct. And I suppose we'll learn it soon enough.

In the meantime, I've learned that home is where my heart feels safe. Home is laying in the hammock at the lake. Home is in my sister's garage, where she lays out snacks and baked goods just like my mom used to. Home is in a hug from my daughter or on a walk with my dog. 

Home is love because love is all there is.