Home.

They say "home is where the heart is." As I was traveling to Hawaii, thinking of my impending doom on my flight (where did this flying phobia come from??), I was struck by my thoughts of "coming home." Hawaii, for those of you who don't know, is not home. This is only my third time being here, but, two of my most favorite people in the world live here--my parents. These are the people who love me, support me, spoil me, teach me, and guide me. These are the people who raised me, who taught me how to live. These are my role models, who I aspire to be like. I love my parents more than I can say. And they are home. Being with them, with my brother by my side, is the epitome of home to me. They are my heart.

I never thought that I would have another place that I would consider home. But over the past five years, Seattle has become a home to me. My friends, who have loved me, encouraged me, challenged me, and laughed with me, have become a second "home" to me. My job, my church, my pub, my cat...they've all become a part of this home that has enveloped me and made me content and thirsting for more at the same time.

I know this isn't a life changing post, and certainly not the most exciting for getting back on the wagon while blogging, but I'm immensely grateful for my homes and the people who make them.