Home Again

Woundedbug came home on Thursday, after a year in Morocco. It's good to have him back.

The other night we sat on the porch late at night, smoking cigars, drinking tea (well, what can you do when you don't have any cognac) and talking about love, life, and whatever else came to mind.

It really doesn't seem like a year that he's been away. Then again, it doesn't seem like a year that I've been back.

Someone asked me today, out of the blue, "So when are you going back to New Zealand?" I don't know. But sometimes I think a part of me never left. (I know, Andi, I know! Don't say it!)

Travel does funny things to a person. It's hard to know where home really is, after awhile. If it's where the heart is, I'm in trouble, because my heart is in about three different places, at the very least! Hmmmm.

But I can't think about it anymore tonight. I'm late already. Have a great weekend...I'll tell you about mine if you tell me about yours! Until next time, ciao.