But where is home?  Here, with my husband or children, or in Arizona, with my mom and dad?  In my heart, it’s here, of course, but the pull of “home” with my parents is so strong right now.  There is a consolation in their presence, and in the presence of so many people in the community who knew me when I was growing up and who love my family.  It was very, very hard to leave this time, especially since Dad is on the decline and I just don’t know if he’ll be there when I’m back in a few weeks.

When I was 18, I turned around and left that town without so much as a backward glance, on to what I supposed were bigger and better things.  This time I pointed my car in the right direction on the highway, but my heartstrings kept pulling back, even as I tried to drown out their twang with music played at top volume.  (Shakira’s “Whenever, Wherever” had me singing along and channeling my inner vamp, but then the Beatles’ “In My Life” — Dad’s favorite song — reduce me to a blubbering heap).

My wonderful husband and children greeted me at the airport with balloons and flowers and hugs and kisses.  I was so thrilled to see them.  It is so good to be here.  If only I could be in two places at once.