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Coming Home

“Where we love is home, home that our feet may leave, but not our hearts.” ~Oliver Wendell Holmes

There is nothing quite so good as the feeling of returning home after a time away. As my plane sliced it’s way along the length of California after a long and trying day I noticed I was clicking my heels. Not like Dorothy trying to get back to Kansas; I was spurring on my steel horse for the final leg of the journey home. Home is the best place¬†after-all and getting there quickly is all that matters. Home is where I get hugs that come running at me with the full force of a 60 pound little girl. It’s where I discover the latest cool thing my 8 year-old has learned about matter or government or photosynthesis or the intricacies of a new fart joke. Home is where I find my wife’s warm embrace and where in an instant I feel some of the tension slip away as she hands me a glass of wine she poured in anticipation of my arrival. Home is all of this.

As my trusty steed sped toward the homestead and the sun disappeared below the horizon I took a moment to look around for familiar landmarks. This is what I saw. It was as though someone had left a warm golden light on for me. I love coming home.

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