finding home...

 "Caroline was stung by a yellow jacket today."  Words written by a little boy away at camp.  When my mother became ill, I asked her if I could keep her cards and letters.  The words she had safeguarded were magic potions for me, and I could not bear to part with them.  So, one winter's day I sat on the floor and relived my life.  As I was going through the stack, a postcard fell out, and I saw my brother's handwriting on the back. She had kept it all these years!  It was nestled among her other memories, and holding it in my hands I think I understood my mother  for the first time.  I have been searching for home all my life.  Somehow a bit of it was contained in that yellowed postcard written by a small child a lifetime ago and sent home to parents who were doing the best they could.  Now, I am living a life of wonder by the sea.  Oh, I love the adventure.  I'm excited about the freedom.  But I know now more than ever that what I really need is home.  And home is always another person.