A few posts ago, I pondered about being able to go home again. I mustn't really understand what home means, at least in the more traditional sense. What I do know, is that home isn't necessarily something I'm looking for or particularly attached to. My home is where we land and I don't specifically need to be surrounded with the familiar. That's not to say that I don't like to have my stuff. It's nice to have, but we've lived without it. I've learned that you don't have to be physically close to someone to love them, worry about them, support them or be useful to them. Love is a powerful and strange force that can reach over amazing distances.
The other thing that's become clear to me is that the world is an amazing place with so much to discover that it's hard to decide where to go next. I want to meet the people that inhabit this globe, experience their way of living, taste their food, find similarities and embrace the differences.
Our life certainly isn't for everyone, but if you are curious, there's really no harm in trying it. The worst thing that could happen (hopefully) is that you go back home, knowing it's not for you. Our attitude is that if all else fails, we can go home again - wherever that is!