I’m at home.

It’s the strangest feeling when you step out the car and onto your driveway: surreal, unreal, strange. 7 hours ago, you were still at work, but a quick car ride later, you’re at home.

Dan jokingly told me before I left, “But you know, home is where I am,” but quickly corrected himself soberly, “I shouldn’t say that. Home is heaven.” I thought about that for a long time, what home meant, what home was. Is. He’s right, but I do like this, this earthly home I have and I wonder if that’s a sin.

I think the feeling of being home must be something akin to what I felt last night, something like it, but a million times better. Our hope and our goal, that’s what makes this life worth anything.

Powee gave me this book, a commencement speech given by David Foster Wallace, about how to look and live out this life here. It was a quick read; I finished in (Powei accurately guessed it) 10 minutes, but a poignant one. I couldn’t get it out of my head and I’m still thinking about it now, but my mom and grandma are calling, so I will save those musings for next time.

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