Home.

Always Come Home Back to You; Atmosphere (acoustic).  My first foray in guitar will be to learn this refrain.

Home is a funny thing.  It's where you grow up, it's where your friends are, it's where you are, it's where you schools have been, it's where you think you would love to be.  But we are greater than the sum of these seemingly disconnect places, and the way to get through the wistful feelings for somewhere else is to live life fully where you are.  My home in Boston has no puppy to greet me when I arrive home, but it does have a twenty minute walk across the river to see the symphony.  I revel in the distinctness of my different homes, for they give me such a wonderful variety, so many stories.  Sure, I miss home in Minnesota.  I miss my friends in Illinois.  I miss a life I've never actually had growing up wild with smultron juice staining my chin in Sweden, exploring Viking ruins and learning to scarf down peas with a knife.  But the one thing I've learned is that missing things that are not there is mostly futile.  Love the place you live and travel often seems to be the best remedy.

(inspired by Kate Miss's thoughts on home)