I'm trying to find the Gretel Ehrlich quote that speaks of home being simultaneously nowhere and everywhere at once, a rather po-mo, po-co concept...but my sleepy eyes aren't alighting on the right words tonight.
Where is home? Is a place always home even after I'm gone? How long must I live in a place before it becomes home? What determines home-- landscape, architecture, food, culture, people, and/or the visceral intuition that zings through my body-mind-soul?
And what is homesickness if not for that tortuous ache, akin to unrequited love?!?
My landscapes shift, couldn't be more different, and yet are beloved each.
Austerity of snow and ice, fecundity of humidity and abundance.
Home. Homeless. Homeful.