Home… what is it? How do you find it? How do you recognize it?


In a previous article I mention that at age 60 I finally found home. It should have struck you as strange, but there was no echo: no comment, no commentary, no reply.

I think that you don’t know what home is… maybe?

I found a quote from Maya Angelou about “home.” It struck a cord with me, because she, just like me, found home within.

Here is the quote. Make sure you let me know if it resonated with you. OK?

I believe that one can never leave home. I believe that one carries the shadows, the dreams, the fears and dragons of home under one’s skin, at the extreme corners of one’s eyes and possibly in the gristle of the earlobe.

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