When I travel abroad I don't find myself missing what I own, but rather what I have come to call home. The reality is that one small house on two tires does not come to my mind. My past and all the memories, the flashes and voices, I hear like those people are whispering into my ear. When you have more time in life to focus on tasks other than dusting, painting,sweeping, and mopping it's easier to remember home as the communities you were in. The scenery and the sky. The moments that passed by that morphed into fond memories that are now held tightly to enliven your senses and feelings once again. Home is no longer one place. It is the whispers that I hear from the past, the dreams that I have for the future, and the ground that is currently under my feet.