Today marks three years since I arrived in my forever home. Even though many wonderful things have happened since returning to the US, my heart is truly still in this beautiful village. There is something magical about the sloping rooftops; the rolling hills; the perfect rows of the orchards, the lavender fields, and the vineyards. The culture is kind and good-natured. I miss it terribly.

A connection with place and home is something I often think about. What is home? Home is where you are comfortable, where you are with loved ones. And sometimes it is neither it is a place that you connect to so strongly even without the connection to family, or familiarity.

After college, I moved back to my family house, my home. I am working in my old school district, my home. And next year I will be going to school at Teacher College in the City, where I feel like I can breathe again every time I get out of the subway and breath in my first breath of city air, my home. I have been back to Savannah where its charm, and warmth swallow you whole, especially in the spring, my home. Through all these places and people that I miss when I am away from them, I cannot help but feel that I miss my true home.

Is there a distinction between feeling at home and being at home? Can we have more than one home?