Home

I caught myself, towards the end of my visit, referring to New York City as home. As in "I go home on Sunday" or "I can't wait to get home." It wasn't until the plane started to make it's descent, as I looked out over Rockaway Beach (where there was snow-on the beach, snow on the beach people!) that I realized I have made NYC my home. Is home really where your heart is? Or, for creatures of comfort like me, is home where your bed and favorite pillows are? I think I am lucky to have many homes and a heart big enough to encompass them all. And I am even luckier to have many people in my life who make me feel at home by their very presence. California was a roller coaster of emotions but what I have taken back with me is the love and laughter I shared with old friends, the ones you reconnect with instantly and skip over a few missed months (or years) in a heartbeat. Those friends are home.