Home, a pretty mythical place, if you ask me.  Should I click my heels three times and chant, “There’s no place like home. There’s no place like home.”  Would I be magically transported to . . . where?  Home is where the heart is.  Okay, let’s start there. 

 

My heart is a bit of a mess.  Years of abuse have taken their toll.  Payment extracted sometimes more than I thought I could bear.  I am, however, still here.  “Resistance is futile.”  Life is going to dish up a meal from my karmic menu and there are no substitutions. 

 

This usually means I’m going to have something I haven’t tried before.  None of us wish strife into our lives . . . or do we?  Nobody courts heartbreak . . . or do they?  My heart has been broken and mended so often that it must resemble a patchwork quilt . . . My patchwork heart.

 

So there’s nothing left, but to dig out the ruby slippers and see where they take me. There’s no place like home.  There’s no place like home. There’s no place like home. There’s no place like home.  There’s no place like home……….

 

 

Advertisements