home

view from the train, today on our way home...

I've been thinking about what 'home' is a lot recently. A place? The flat I rent with my husband? The city I was born in? The town my parents live in? So many places feel like home. When I lived in London, the tube line I rode all the time (Victoria) and bus I took (43) felt a little like home. As soon as I was on that familiar transit, I felt relaxed and safe, kinda like those were my lines only. Even though I know that's silly. And Scotland, where I lived for four years when I went to university, feels like home, too. I grew up a lot in between 17 and 21.

So there are a lot of places. And whenever I travel, I can't help but feel sad about what I am leaving behind. When my husband and I are first married, though, I discovered the best part about marriage: we moved together. For the first time, I had someone to share it all with, and that makes every move better, because he's always coming with me.

I think it's okay to have a lot of places that feel like home. Places that are safe and familiar and nostalgic and somehow mine. In fact, I want to collect even more of them.