Thank you, god of home, for not leaving me. My sweaty hands could never forget you leading me. The smell, the feel of home. Well. You know it. When you�re there.

My baby.

I find you everywhere these days. It�s like you�re in everything. All these people. Genvieve. Frederic. Nadege. Gladys. Carole. Kevin. Gilbert. Vanessa. Mariange. Jean-Claude. Virginie. Vanessa. Alexia. And if I stretch, there�s Sarah too. Even Pierre.

How can this be? It used to be, in another world I think, that these were just names on paper.

But now I look at these people in shinning eyes. I�ll never forget. The touch as Mariange holds my arms and tells me that I am one of her daughters. Hours of after dinner conversation in broken French with Genvieve, Frederic, and Nadege. Even the wandering walks with Carole.

And I don�t understand it. I think back at all of these things, and baby. I was home.

Just certain things. I know you were there. And you used to smell like chocolate chip cookies. You used to speak English. You used to rub my back when I cried. You used to cheer at my sports games. You used to drool with me in movie theatres. You used to be a dog that didn�t like me. You used to stay up late and talk to me about philosophy and life. And I used to marvel at your genius.

But whatis this? I see you everywhere. I go running and you�re in the trees. You�re in my shoes. You smile at me through people I thought were strangers.

You�re everywhere!

You�re even in that awful boney bed! Those terrible dim lights. You�re in this Barbie lined room right now.

I never thought I�d find you in an airport. I left you, shattered heart, in an airport. Hours later I found you in another one. But here�s the weirdest thing. When I leave again you�ll be there with me. Holding my hand. Dripping down my face in tears.

And this. This is the hardest part of all. You know? When I leave I�m going to be leaving home. For home.

Think about that. I will always and never be home.

I love how I still call them host families. Really. They aren�t just host families. They are my families. Who ever said you could have only just one?

I see family everywhere. I hate it though. In reality I feel like I�m always leaving.

I love my families. I would never have not done this just to escape the pain. No matter how many liquid pieces of my heart will fall from my eyes when I leave, I will know. I love you all so much. I would never give any of you up.

Ever.

I always forget this one person though. When I talk about home. There�s a huge mirror in the bathroom, and it shows me.

She�ll walk in, goddess hair, big hips. Smiling, usually. She�s got freckles. Her eyes, they�re blue. Sometimes she�s tired. Sometimes she�s dancing. I�ve seen her all sweaty. I�ve even watched her cry.

I am the God of Home, and when I�m in her, well.

My baby.

I am home.