After a long, emotionally draining weekend, I'm back - but I'm not home.
It was a strange feeling, going back after being gone for eleven years. I wonder if that's how exiles feel? So at peace and simultaneously out of place.
I wish Ryan could have gone with me; he sees my family as rootless, but we're not.
For him, the pull of home is his extended family and friends.
We have that too, but there's something else.
A deep vein runs through our family, and connects us to this place.
There's a pull, like a rope attached to a point just behind the heart, that makes us yearn for the mountains and the memories.
Home. There's nowhere else I'd rather be.