“I long as does every human being to be at home wherever I find myself.” – Maya Angelou.
In the Shadow of the Catalina Mountains
I’ve never truly had roots, moving frequently as both a child and an adult. I didn’t graduate from high school, so have never had that kind of reunion. And, after sneaking in the back door of a community college, I have five institutions of higher education in my background, so no real connections there either.
The closest I ever came to feeling at home was in the daily chaos of a newspaper newsroom, and then living life on the road. But during my recent 12-day stay (because of back pain) at my youngest daughter’s home, where I was lovingly waited on hand and foot, I found myself tremendously missing my third-floor walk-up apartment in which I’ve lived for less than three years.
I moved into it after spending nine years living in an undersized 21-foot RV, where home was wherever I parked it. I returned from my daughter’s home to my 600-square-foot Tucson apartment, which sits in the shadow of the Catalina Mountains and which I decorated from scratch, yesterday – and soon found myself sitting on my bedroom balcony staring out at the Catalina Mountains.
I’m not sure I have ever felt as much as home as I did in that moment.
Bean Pat: 20 Minutes a Day http://tinyurl.com/nh8oszr A favorite blogger who shares her own interpretation of home.