Thomas Wolfe said "You can't go home again."
He was right... to a point. I can't go back, that's true. Yet it seems that again and again I find my way back to those relationships that have, at one point or another, defined home for me. My parents... because I'll never get too old for their insight and advice. The roommate who shared not only a roof, but life and all of its joys and struggles for 4+ years. The friend who lived far away (or so I thought at the time), then just a few minutes away, and is now far away again... but still capable of bringing incredible normalcy into my day just by sending a text about driving in snow. My little brother, who will always be my little brother no matter how big, buff, or old he is.
The Savior whose arms are always waiting for me...
So maybe I can't go back to a place, or a time, but how wonderfully precious that I can always go the ones who know me best!
