How will I know when I'm home?
An address? A color? A shape or a size?

Is home where I receive my mail?
Or - where I rest my head at night?

Perhaps - it's the silent snow falling?

Settling into this new year...this new life...this new and old and very familiar landscape.
There are times that I stop to pinch myself. Is this real? Am I imagining?

It's winter.
It's my mother tongue. It's my favorite comfort food.
It's cold out there...but remains warm where it resides inside me.

Maybe - then - I need no longer question?
I do know.
I am home.