Homesick

Home. Recently I thought that my home is now San Francisco. More precise, my room in Barry's apartment. My things, my smell, the cat, my friends. Traveling seemed to have become a nuisance, taking me away from the place and people I love.

But, maybe I'm wrong? What if home is with me wherever I go, wherever I am? What if it is inside of me and I carry it with me to every place I go? Thinking of home like that makes me feel calm. Less restless and impatient when I have to stand in another airport check-in line, wait for the plane to leave, or my bags to arrive. It allows me to enjoy myself wherever I am instead of longing to return to where I want to be instead. I don't need to come home because I am home. No matter where I am.

What does this internal home feel like? Do you know how you feel when you are in a perfect place, like a houseboat on a lake in summer? With all the people you love, good food, the warm sun, perfect glassy water, and nowhere else to be? Feeling loved, rested, peaceful, complete. Nothing is missing. Nothing you'd rather do and nowhere else you'd rather be. A place that makes you think "I could die right here and right now because I know it won't get any better than this." 

So from now on when I'm on the road, in a meeting that doesn't seem to end, on a plane for hours on end or in any other place or situation that used to make me angry, impatient, and wish I was anywhere but in that place, I will just remember my inner home, the best place in the world!