Wednesday, June 10, 2009

Home Cooking

It has been a little over a week since my return to Harrisburg, the land of my parents. Though I consider Harrisburg my hometown and hate when people put it down, I no longer consider Harrisburg my home. Initially, this came as a surprise to me because I have a strong connection to the place and the people here, but after three and a half years (one semester in TLV) of living in Ann Arbor I can no longer call Harrisburg my home, it has switched to my parent's home. After moving out, they switched rooms around, added a nice deck and given my brother reign over the entire basement. So where is my home? I am going to be a bit of a nomad, though I don't feel like a Jack Kerouac character from "On the Road," traveling around with Harrisburg being my base to come back to when I need a break from the road.
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1 comment:

  1. slawJune 22, 2009 at 12:35 AM

    this is quite deep my friend. Always remember home is where the heart is. And if you build it, they will come. But No one is allowed if they haven't RSVP'd. That's just a common rule of social etiquette that all should and must know.

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