When people ask me where my home is, I don’t always know how to answer. Having moved frequently throughout my life, I never had a place where I settled down or put down roots. My folks did not “settle down” till I was ready to spread my wings and fly the coop into adulthood. Having no place to call home has been one of my “issues” for years. Some times I have invested quite a bit of energy into getting to know people and become involved in the community. Other times I haven’t bothered. I never know if I’ll be in one place six months, or three years. But it occurs to me that where ever Richard and I hang our hats, where ever we are together, that is home. I’ve always had a roof over my head, food on the table, and clothes on my back. There are a lot of people who have done without all three. I’ve lived in many abodes and have learned to “love ’em and leave ’em,” but nothing spells home like being with the ones I love, no matter where we live. I am grateful for home, sweet home.
Perpetual Gratitude: A Photographic Diary 