Well, sort of. Actually, I've been busy missing home - wondering where home really is, rather. There's a bad Motley Crue song in there somewhere, but I promise not to sing it and just get on to the point without resorting to leather pants or other hair metal accoutrement.*
*Just imagine a Grace Kelly lookalike with feathered 80s hair, though - this idea has legs (Aqua Net?).
I've been gone for a total of four years, but flying back to California still reminds me of seeing a (non-cretinous) ex again - for the span of a weekend, it can be deceptively easy to only see the lovely, pretty bits. Even the biggest clod or city can show promise for 48 hours, making it less simple to recall why it was you left in the first place. You were fine until you saw one another again, but oh, the first time back . . . and it doesn't help if home is the Geor*ge Clo*oney of cities. Throw in my friends that make my hometown, well, home, and it generally equals a long flight back to Texas to reflect on why the Anonymous Husband & I decided to make Texas home.
Am I (are we) happy in Austin, where I live now? Absolutely. It's a terrific city. Could I (we) be happy back home? Absolutely. It's a terrific city.
Can you call two places home? Or is home something that, geographically and spiritually, can only be in one place?