I am getting comfortable with the navigation abilities in my car, whose name is Midge. It took a few tries, but now I can tell her where I want to go, and enjoy both the visual and auditory guidance Midge provides. Although much of my routine is predictable, there are days when I go somewhere new. 

 

It is fun to click on Home, after my errand is through. Even on those roads that are familiar, it is reassuring to have her confirm the turns and tell me how long it will take to get there. Then comes the best part. 

 

"Welcome home."

 

It feels good every time. 

 

It is a blessing, which is no less soothing for being a frequent occurrence. There are hordes of people who want nothing more than to belong to a safe haven. After five trips to the airport this Christmas, our globe-trotting kids will smile to drive up Alden Road.  

 

I read of a Near Death Experience in which the woman tried to express the extent to which she felt that she had Arrived. She fit in a way that outsmarted any words she might lasso to name it. 

 

When I recall the dozen or so places I have lived in my short life, it is apparent that some fit better than others. The condo in Albuquerque was temporary. The dorm rooms were made slightly less stark by posters. I never liked that the front door in California opened directly into our bedroom. 

 

A phrase I once heard resonates. It captures both our own hunger for stability, but also the part we play in helping others find theirs. 

 

"We are all just walking each other home."