In the past year, I finally found my ‘home.’ A place I feel safe and warm, and love to spend as much time as possible there.
True, I have some catsitting clients whose bedrooms are larger than my entire apartment. But those million dollar houses are not home.
So what is home, exactly?
And when I have to live at other people’s houses for weeks on end, how do I take my feeling of home with me?
It’s not a rhetorical question.