"Home" is easy to define, and, most of us are homeless.

"Home" was at a coffee shop with a best friend - debating, sipping, and smoking half the night, while joking with a favorite waitress.

... in a particularly good summer Climbing Tree with a spot high in the branches where a comfortable, hidden sit was possible. Birds were not threatened by you, alone, all of you up in your shared tree.

... when you had spare time, and used it for absolutely nothing but walking fields with your dog, and when it felt right, both of you laid down in tall grass under the Fall sun, and took a short, shallow nap. Your head, laying on his belly as a pillow, moved slowly up and down with his breathing, while he felt the familiar extra weight on him.

... when you were with your loved one, doing anything you both enjoyed, and you might - or might not - speak. Words weren't used for filler, distraction, countermoves, or reassurance. You did not need them.

You found "Home" in another State.

"Home" wasn't a building or a even a belief, it was a condition. It grew from years of fine tuning love, flexibility, patience, and seeing your bigger picture. It can't be willed, and it can't be an accident. It takes years to build, and it can be stolen in seconds.