It’s the little things that can sometime catch you off guard and throw you for a loop.  The silly little things that cause your stomach to lurch a little and a nervous laugh to escape your lips.

The weird, little things.

Like, what is my home address?  I mean, I don’t have one. I really, for the first time in my life, don’t have one. Our rental camper in site 43 certainly isn’t a permanent address… and when the lovely family from site 42 asked us where we were from… well, how does one respond to that?

Where are we from? Where is our home? It isn’t our old address… but nor is it our new one.  We don’t feel any… ownership? Connection? Yet to the new place, so how we can say we are “from there”

Our littlest has been taking it harder than the girls have. He keeps asking “can we go home now” and the slightly dramatic soul in me responds on a few occasions “ We have no home” (insert weeping)

Just so you know – that answer doesn’t work for a 2 year old.

So, I tried instead, to explain how your home is where your heart is, and in his case (and mine) where our family is. How home for us will be changing a little over the coming years, but he can always count mom and dad as home.

Then, when he woke up the next morning we weren’t abused with the same running dialogue as all the other mornings. He wasn’t asking to go home anymore.

Being one to always tease a cat (I hope you get that one!) I asked him if he wanted to go home?

He said, in that lovely tinny 2 year old voice “I am home mommy, home is with you”

I guess, for once, I answered the question right…  and in him remembering, he reminded me that this is so very true, that it wasn’t just an idle response to a repetitive question.

Home isn’t a place… it is the people.  And I am lucky enough to have my 4 favorite people draped over me right now in a camper.

Hot sweaty people, but wonderful people, just the same!