I would make a horrible criminal. According to Cops,you have to be out well past midnight and that just isn't me. Up, yes but out and about, no. When I am out after dark and on my way home, I longingly look into people's windows and unsecretly, long to trade places with them. With TV sets on or seeing the light on in the kitchen - I can't wait to get home. My home, where the deer and the antelope play. Where seldom is heard, a discouraging word and the skies aren't cloudy all day...but I digress.
Sometimes, when I am stuck in traffic - I look at the car next to me. I wonder how many are in the family and what their Story is and I always end my time telling myself, I wouldn't trade my life for theirs for anything. Even if all the cards were laid on the table, and I could see that it would be a unfair trade and I should take it before someone changed their minds - I still wouldn't be interested. Just like I can wait to get home, the life I have is the one that is mine. It is meant for me. It is not perfect but it is mine. It is where I have staked my claim, until death due us part.
Metaphors aside, home comes in many different colors, shapes and sizes. There is no one size fits all. It is where I can laugh or cry, to my heart's content. I rant and rave and chill out. It is home and to me, it is a little piece of heaven...
