Patrick McCarthy

The constant traveler’s idyllic sense of home turned topsy-turvy, like Galileo in reverse, I wonder: am I seeking a home or is it seeking me? If a home is the place where friends and family celebrate and give thanks for blessings, perhaps I must reconsider my idea of an apartment or house as a home, and look inside - creating a home in every present moment, in the banter with a flight attendant in the seat I just occupied for 20 hours, in the recognition of a favorite cornice in London, in the discovery of common ground over dinner in the West Village. This is the true grace and glory of travel: the recognition of that which is most familiar and intimate through contrast with that which is not. And so I exult in my return “home”, to my family and friends, to my enterprises and explorations and projects and possibilities, I exult. I am home.