Living Among Strangers…

I tend to think of the word stranger as calling someone a strange person. I haven’t met any classifiably strange people here. Everyone is friendly, kind, and curious. I don’t feel the least bit out of place. Everyone has been so welcoming and I feel totally comfortable in this environment. Maybe I adapt fast, but either way, I only feel like I’m part of a new community full of new people, not strangers.

…The Lost Meaning of Home.

The first thing that took hold of my thoughts when I read this line was this; where would I even consider my home? My permanent address is my mom’s house, but I have never lived in that house. I move around constantly and I find it an adventure every time. So I guess I could be extremely broad and say my home is the country of the United States. I suppose I have lost the meaning of home, or maybe I never really had a meaning for it in the first place. I find a way to feel at home anywhere I go. Quite literally, home is where my heart is. Like physically I’m in Armagh, so this is home for me.