Home for the holidays...

This past week, I took vacation time from work, and traveled "home" for the Thanksgiving holiday. In this case, home wasn't to my parents farm in the western highlands of Virginia, but to Michigan where I went to college, lived, and worked for seven years (or 1/4 of my life).

Compared to Richmond, Detroit is a Siberian wasteland--cold, dirty, gray, and clouded with the remnants of failed industry. The roads suck, and traffic is horrible. The economic forecast is bleak--last year there was -2.6 percent job growth (this being the main reason that I now live in Virginia). And even though I love Michigan, the entire time I was there, I waivered between my desire to return to the life I led, and the desire to try to find that new existence I'm struggling to establish now. It's very hard to find yourself again.

A home isn't necessarily a physical place you go--though in some cases it can be. I think that home is where you go to see the people you love, and who love you back. So to my friends, confidants, and partners in crime--I love all of you guys, and I began missing you the minute I crossed the state line into Ohio.

And I hope that I always have a 'home' with you.