Chapter 29: My Henry, My Home

Home is not a place. It’s a story. A feeling. A sense of arrival. A need met. A recognition. A resting. A safety. A knowing. A Mecca of the heart. A satisfaction of the soul.

To be honest, I’ve been trying to write about home ever since I got the assignment from an English professor in college. I tried and got a decent grade but it was crap… and all these years later, I’m still at a loss for words. But it’s important, especially at this point in our story. So… here goes. Again.