it turned out to be the howling of a dog

I don’t have a conventional idea of where home is. I haven’t for a few years now. Home has always been where I am. Which is good to some extent but can also be confusing, for how do I satisfy that feeling of going home if I don’t know where that is.
I moved out of the house I grew up in the same summer my parents sold the house and left the city. That’s when ‘home’ changed from being a place to being an idea. And I’m getting a better idea of what home is supposed to be now. Comfort, firmiliarity, love.
Nita and Neil came for a visit and it was awesome. They stayed here for two days and in that time we hung out, drank, shot the shit, laughed, discussed and relaxed. And ate. We ate so much.
And the whole time they were here I felt like I was at home again. So there you go. It’s the people you know, the ones who get you and love you. I’m on this formality we-aren’t-really-friends-yet level with this whole goddamn city it feels. I’m sure it’s something that will change in due time but it’s fucking hard to deal with sometimes. I’m wanting some connection to something, anything.
Course that won’t happen till I stop paying attention.