Home

Home isn't a building, a country, or even a destination. Home is the smile that I can't stop each time I walk along the road to Campo Verde. Home is the hug from my daddy after being gone 4 months. Home is the longing in my heart when my mommie's voice says "I miss you sis" from the other end of the line so many miles away. It is the jokes in the kitchen about me looking haggard at 6am, and the plop monk makes when he lands on my shoulder. It isn't four walls and a big front door, or a thatched roof and dirt floor. It's craving MaMa's cooking and the excuses from friends telling you why you should eat at least one more piece of chocolate. Home doesn't change whether you can choose the temperature of your water, or if it's always cold, nor whether you have a shower head and curtain or buckets and half a tarp. It matters not if you use candle light only on special occasions, or everynight. Home is found in the smells that bring happy memories. It's the toothless grin saying "Buenos Dias Professora", and Sabbath hugs at Km. 38. It's the question of "Are you ok?" and the prayers from loved ones near and far. Home is more than a place could ever be... it's really a bouquet of feelings. Love and comfort, belonging and smiles, freedom and kindness, jokes and sunshine. It's the letter from a dear friend or a video from Matt. It's the promise of a lifetime in heaven and guidance here on earth. Home is the song in my heart, the bounce in my step, and the spirit with in me. Most of all though, home is the ability to be yourself, it's who I am, and what I love.