Apropos for my life far from my first home, yet not odd in the least. It's grim, gray, cold and raining here, the opposite side of the coin to the other place on the other side of the world that I still also think of as home.
Can I have two homes? Of course I can. Like that lovely sentimental song: "Feels like Home to me." I'm an immigrant and I live nuance. Emotions, like relationships, are often ambivalent. It is possible to hold two competing ideas at the same time.
The airport on the Sunday before Christmas is busy and crowded, with excitement in the air among all the outbound travelers, yet I'm coming home. I'm heading out, not in.
And that's absolutely fine with me. Feels like home to me.
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