Home is funny word. I am very comfortable using the word "home" for where ever I am at the moment. The Amazonian jungle lodge, the shady hostel near the Rome train station, the tiny bunk bed in Maple, the dorm room in Ann Arbor: where ever I lay my head. The saying, "home is where the heart is" doesn't necessarily describe what I consider home. Because, you see, my heart is always at 28727. Fortunately, the amazing, wonderful, incredible people who made 28727 feel like home, taught me how to create the same warm, loving, caring environment where ever I go. My surrogate homes feel almost the same as that dear old suburbian house, with only one thing missing:
Lucky for me, I leave in about an hour to (hopefully - let's see if I can beat the snow) get on a plane and head home. A three week vacation at the best place on earth - I deserve it.
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