Home

Do you ever wish you could live under the same roof as the most kind, cool, smart and funny people in the world, people who understand you and who love you no matter what?
Yeah, that's home.
After two rather exhausting days of traveling that included, among other things, eating copious amounts of pasta and meat at my uncle's Italian family's house in Calgary, crossing two three lanes of traffic outside of the Toronto airport just to find a patch of grass that my uncle's service dog could poop on, and flying on the same plane as the Russian junior hockey team, I arrived in Halifax last night.
Home:
Where my sister left THIS on my night table. Stephen Leacock, Dilbert, a travel book and a VHS of my favourite movie- oh my! And of course my sister's own novel. And a Tolkien quote. And some treasures from the beach at camp. Yum yum yum.

Home: where the cupboard is full of mismatched mugs and Just Us tea.
Home: where the garden has grown so lushly since I have been gone:

  

Home: where four out of the five members of our family are but with the conspicuous absence of my little brother, who has been to Thailand and Alberta since I have seen him last. Home is not quite complete without him.

Home: where we stayed up last night eating Italian and French chocolate and my parents and sister eagerly gobbled up my anecdotes of summer school. At least I think they were eager, maybe they were just being polite.
But I am pretty sure my sister is actually eager. She just got an iPod and one of the first apps she downloaded was the Merriam-Webster dictionary. She is a born linguist, I think. She thought the back of our school t-shirts, a Bible verse written in IPA, was very cool (my friend Moss designed that, good job)! Can any of you non-linguists decipher this code?

Home: Where my sister and I stayed up far too late talking and listening to music because it did not seem late for me because of the time change and because we missed sharing a room with each other.
Home: Where my first stop, I think, besides home, will be a trip to the local second hand clothing store. Only Maritimers, I am afraid, know what Frenchy's is, and only people in my hometown know what our equivalent is.

It is good to be home.