Thursday, March 6, 2014


It's funny how the way I have defined home has changed over the years. When I lived in North Carolina, I kept thinking "I want to go home" -- home being New England, of course, the place I thought I belonged.

When I came back, I was so happy. I was home! Yahoo!

I still love it here.


If I get plane tickets and fly to North Carolina, and you ask me where I'm going? I will tell you I'm going home.

I don't get it either.

When I lived in North Carolina, I longed for New England. I missed everything about it. I dreamed of it. Now that I'm back -- and firmly established -- North Carolina likes to sidestep into my dreams. I don't wish for it the same way I wished for New Hampshire, but it makes its presence known.  For example, I had a terrible day today. Terrible. When I asked myself, "Yellie, what do you REALLY want right now? What would make you feel better?" The answer was "Carolina pulled pork, hush puppies, and scuppernong wine."

And yet. As I thought that, I listened to my waterfall, snuggled with my cat, and knew my best friend was only two floors away in my apartment complex.

I guess that the truth is that home is where you love and where you are loved. In that I am lucky, because while officially I may have been homeless for a bit, I unofficially have two homes now. I get to have my beloved New Hampshire and my equally (if oft-maligned) North Carolina.


Now if only I could figure out where to get hush puppies up here...

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