I left home on a journey today: a road trip to visit family in Michigan. I expected my usual travel-adrenaline, the thrill of away. Instead I found dread at crossing the bridge that spans the Connecticut River and signifies the end of New Hampshire.
But as I pack up for the final stage of a move to HOME, I find myself thinking of the runner-up and how shocked I (and my family) were that it didn't work out.
THIS is what I love about life in the woods: You're playing bingo with your family. The phone rings. It's your neighbor saying, "Come on out if you wanna join us for fireworks."
As I wrapped up the final book project for Folded Word's 2012 list, I realized that my subconscious might be driving paperback acquisitions.
HOME. It's a Middle English word with Old English, Old Norse, and Old Germanic roots. It's a word with a long list of meanings. It's also a word that has consistently caused me angst, especially when filling in the "home town" blank on social media info pages. I have moved around quite a bit—not as…Read more quest(ion) 2013: HOME