Home

OK, so I'm back. Not home, but back. Which means that I am on the east side of the Atlantic.

I left the place which has been home for five and a half years, and now I am at the place which was home throughout my whole childhood. And when our belongings arrive in their container, so long as it doesn't fall off the side of the ship and plummet into the depths of the North Atlantic, we will take them to the house which is waiting to become our new home.

So where does that leave me for the moment? I've always found those slogans that people have on display in their houses a little trite. You know the kind of thing I mean. "Home is where the heart is", or "East, West, Home is Best". But I shouldn't be so critical. They are brave attempts to capture an elusive concept. "Home" is what?

A place? A house, a town, a country, or a continent?

People? A family, friends, a community?

A space? Your own heart, or perhaps even a blog?

Or a feeling? Yes, I believe "home" can be a feeling. And that's why I say I am back, but not home. Yet.