The past six days have had me traveling; first on business and the latter half of the week visiting a dear friend. Time has passed very quickly while hanging out with my buddy. He introduced me to several new people including one I feel a particular kinship with and hope in time we might become friends. Time will tell. 

Knowing I will be home in twelve hours is a good feeling. When I have been a way for a week or so, walking into my home is refreshing experience. It’s then I more keenly notice the house I live and what is in it. The feeling of that moment is gratitude for the common things that often get overlooked on a day to day basis.

There are shaggy asters blooming in the bed that lines the fence,
And the simplest of the blossoms seems of mighty consequence.
Oh, there isn’t any mansion underneath God’s starry dome
That can rest a weary pilgrim like the little place called home.
So where’er a man may wander, and whatever be his care,
You’ll find his soul still stretching to the home he left somewhere.
From “The Path To Home” by Edgar Guest

Whether it’s my bed, the coffee pot that I am accustomed to or unwrinkled clothes, I will be glad to get home.

Amid pleasures and palaces
though we may roam,
Be it ever so humble,
there’s no place like home.
John Howard Payne