A Place on the Earth: The first in a series of blog posts on the concept of “Home” 

What is “Home”? 
We all have a home, but do we feel “at home”? Is “home” a structure, a place, a memory, the embrace of a loved one? 
How does our sense of home translate into who we are, where we choose to live, what we accomplish in life, and who we seek out as our companions? 

Thinking today about places in the world, I vividly remember experiencing a conscious sense of “home” while standing on the Nebraska prairie at the age of five.  The waving grasses whispered to me, and the open horizon filled my soul to the point of bursting with light and possibility. 

I next experienced this sense of “home” at the age of 17, standing on a sidewalk in New York City after a 26-hour bus ride with my high school theater group. Bleary-eyed and exhausted, I stepped off the bus onto the grey pavement and knew I was where I belonged. 

Two years ago, on Nov 1, 2018, I woke up to my first morning in Peterborough, New Hampshire.  It was a damp late Autumnal day, and the romance of the season called to me.  I threw on my hiking boots and headed out to explore.  As I trekked around MacDowell Dam and the surrounding back country roads, my eyes took in the mossy stone walls, the fog hanging over the rivers, the moisture dripping from the last of the waving brown leaves. 
My heart cracked open and the beauty of the region poured in. 

I suspect that some people are born in the place where they belong, and others must travel to find it.  Still others, like me, may come across multiple locations where they could happily exist, and are forced to make choices around that. 
While I have a strong nostalgia for both the Nebraskan Sandhills and NYC, I consider myself truly fortunate to call Peterborough “home.” 
In this place, I am continually overwhelmed by the sense that my spirit is whole.