Subtitled: “Shit. Here we go again.”

Wistful.

Melancholy.

Contemplative.

Thomas Wolfe wrote: “You can never go back home.”

The meaning was that the concept of “home” we hold in our heads is static. The reality is that that time and place has gone. Time moves on. People move on. Our memories don’t.

Home has been a concept that I have struggled with since being on my own. There have been times when I felt the wisps of a home materializing….only to have them blown away.

Up jumps the boogie man!

I then pack up and head out to some other area of the country to do it all over again. Wasn’t it Freud who said the the definition of insanity was doing the same thing over, and expecting a different result?

On the other side…..

If I hadn’t made the decisions I made, I would not have had the chance to dance in the street at a Mardi Gras parade. Wouldn’t have gathered a butt-load of beads. Would not have found the most awesome cigar store in Miami. Would not have met a Nicaraguan cigar factory owner….who I had the honor of smoking a cigar with.

The taste of Cuban coffee would still be a mystery to me. As well as any number of Cuban foods. And speaking of food, I would have never had the chance to eat at Dreamland BBQ. The absolute best BBQ ever.

I would have never made those road trips to Arizona, and to Michigan to visit family.

So………home is in my head. Home is always with me, where I am at the time.

Exactly where it needs to be.