An Airplane story.

Dedicated to my "listening" friend: Christina

I slide into my seat next the window on the airplane, a mom-aged woman is sitting next to me and she makes the casual small talk that I feel is much needed on an airplane; it's awkward to sit so close to someone for 2 hours and never say hello. She asks if I'm from Denver or flying home. I was rendered speechless for a moment, not knowing how to answer that... Denver is my new home. Holland is my childhood home. "Well I just moved out to Denver six months ago and I am flying home to Michigan to visit my family and friends, so I am flying from home to home." I would consider both home. And not just because I lived (or do live) in both places, there are many places I have lived and would not consider home, maybe not even when I lived in them. Someone quoted to me the well-known quote "Home is where the heart is." So running with that logic, I have four homes, because my heart is sliced into four pieces, although not necessarily equal. I feel if I start to describe the size of my heart you might get grossed out and the analogy might lose it's meaning... SO I have four homes: 1) Holland, MI 2) Grace Adventures 3) Kenya 4) Denver, CO. All of them having very different yet significant meanings to them as to why they are my home and why I have left a piece of my heart in each of them, but whenever I am in my car or on a plane, heading towards one of these destinations, my heart beats quickly with excitement of the opportunity to reconnect with people that mean the world to me, to do the things that I feel I was born to do there, and to have that relaxed peaceful feeling that comes from being home.