Going Home

It's funny how the word home changes from time to time. More than changing your address in the GPS marked "Home," but when home changes. Or when home stays the same.

In high school, when I said home I meant this place (0.023 miles from school or less):

In college when I said home it meant:
 - Back to my Dorm
 - Over at my Apartment
 - At the Kingsley Condo
 - ...or heading Home to see Mom and Dad.

While applying for my current job, I had to list the address of everywhere I had lived for the past 5 years... I'm not sure they realized that meant 9 places for me. 9 sets of roommates, 9 ways to hang the toilet paper, 9 sets of roommates... 9 homes.

Like the Wal-mart Baby movie, home really is where the heart is.  The people that make you laugh so hard you cry and giggle at all hours of the night... the people who go with you to a restaurant only to order the very same thing and seem like kids... the people that you drop everything travel to see when they're having a rough day because... they're Home.

Take a weekend, no matter how busy. And go Home. Wherever Home may be.

And laugh.