Here, again...

We're home again, jiggidy-jig....

As I grow older, I become, more and more, a 'homebody'. I just spent a glorious week with one of my children and her fiancee and Bern and two of my best friends in the world on a beach that is wondrous and practically empty, with gulls and Pelicans and birds aplenty and with more good food than anyone deserves and reading 6 books. What could be better, I ask you?

Being home is the answer. Being with our cat and parakeet, who a neighbor child looked after while we were gone, and our dog who I rescued and liberated from the kennel this afternoon. Familiar things give me quiet joy. Home again, home again, juggidy-jig....

I love this house we've lived in since 1989, when Josh was 14 and Mimi was 11. Long gone now, the two of them, and Bern and I live on here. 23 years and counting, surrounded by animals late and quick and by our 'stuff', which has become like skin to me.

A mystical sojourn on Oak Island with some of the people we love most in the world. What could be better than that?

Well, maybe being home with Maggie singing and Luke rubbing against you and Bela home with us and the almost unbearable and also enchanting familiarity of 95 Cornwall Avenue.

I love being home, being 'here' again, after being 'there'.

I will sleep tonight the sleep of the dead and the innocent and wake in the morning to those so-familiar sights and sounds and smells and comfort of 'being Home'.

Being 'home' is about as good as it gets in my mind and heart and soul....