Friday, April 25, 2014

Your heart home.

Do you have a place where your heart feels at home?

I'm not talking about the place you grew up, the place you called home for the first time or even the house where you keep your honey and your pillow and your stash of chocolate hidden in the corner of the pantry. I'm talking about that place that, when you go to it, when your body crosses a border--city, county, state, country--into it, its like your whole soul breathes a sigh of relief.

I grew up in Orange County and for the past five (five?!) years we've lived (and worked, schooled, dreamed, snacked, loved, befriended, played, and grown by two babies) in North Carolina. And while home to me at almost-twenty-nine is really more a person (or people) than a physical location, I have to admit that sometimes my heart longs for a cool summer breeze blowing in through the car window as we drive down an almost-empty Saturday stretch of the 5 freeway into San Diego.

I don't even want to calculate the years it has been since we were last there. It is too many. Life is good here--spring, birdsong, green trees, and sunshine--but tonight I am homesick for my heart home.

If you happen to be crossing the county lines into San Diego sometime this summer, please eat a taco for me. Make it a good one.