| I was in the middle of a deep doctrinal discussion with my hubby about the differences between the evaporated milk they sell at 'home' and the kaffee milk they sell here when my oldest interrupted us with a question. "Mom?" His face was raised to us from where he sat. There was something in his quizzical expression. I can't describe it exactly, hope? desire? longing? Or maybe it was simple curiosity. The same kind of curiosity that leads him to streak my side table with reddish-orange acrylics or throw water balloons from our second story window.
Or maybe not. Because he followed that expression with, "Where's home?"
And after he said this, he looked at us as if we could easily solve this dilemma for him. As if we knew the answer ourselves. Labels: The Move |
posted by Reluctant Nomad at 
oh dear...;) my sister's boy used to ask her the same thing. Just tell him, home is whereever mom and dad are! :)