I had butterflies as the plane descended. I wasn’t meeting anyone. They weren’t because I waiting to see someone smile or anticipating a warm embrace.

But I was about to be in the only place that’s ever felt a little like home. Not because I’ve ever lived here, or spent any extended amount of time here. But it holds my dreams, my hopes, my plans – probably because I left them here last time. And I guess if home actually is a state of mind, that’s what would make up mine.

And they’ve been here, waiting. And that makes me a little nervous. But the comfortable kind. Because when I have those things together – that’s what feels like peace to me. And I’m always a little nervous.


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