There are days, less often than in the past, when I long to be home. i long to have my mother back, healthy, alive, funny, full of puns and laughter and quiet hugs.
I long for days when I was surrounded by friends who knew me well, who new me from childhood, who knew and were my friends anyway.
There are days when sorrow over takes me, when the family around me, the home I pay for, the car I drive, the job I ignore, are all costumed bits of a character i never agreed to play. When did this happen?
When did I lose touch with so many of my childhood friends? Are miles that powerful that they drive a wedge between the closest of friends? If I can meet and fall in love across miles of Internet wire, why can I not find my friends with whom I've laughed and cried and played and worked?
Or is the longing more spiritual, more global than simple loneliness? When we seek to go home is it to a God that gave us life or to a simpler time when belief in that God gave us comfort? For what do we mourn, the loss of innocence or the loss of faith?
So where is home?
(I listened to several versions of the video before selecting this one, the harmonies are different than the version I grew up with, more plaintive, more searching, so I used it.)