Thoughts of Home

It was a grey, dreary day when I headed into the city this morning.

It was a grey, dreary day when I walked to the local Tim Hortons this evening.

I don't really mind. Grey, dreary days remind me of home -- or at least, they remind me of what I tell people is home. They remind me of Vancouver.

Vancouver is not really my home. It's not where I was born and raised. It is where I attended university. It is where I lived a substantial part of my life. It is where my family lives. Vancouver is a nice enough city, but it isn't really home. Then again, no one place feels like home to me, except maybe for Canada itself.

I suppose that home is where my books are. Perhaps home is simply where I am at the moment. Today, home is Toronto. Ten years ago, home was Vancouver. Thirty years ago, home was Nebraska. Forty years ago, home was Saskatchewan. Who know what will be home in ten year's time and does it really matter?

But still, today the grey, dreary weather reminded me of Vancouver and I heard a siren calling out, beckoning me to return to my so-called home. I am like the geese that have started to fill the skies as they journey from southlands to northern nesting grounds. There is something drawing me west.