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In the days leading up to my flight home yesterday, friends often asked me, “Are you looking forward to going home?”

I always gave them the same response, “I’m looking forward to seeing my family.”

For me, home has never been defined by the place.  Rather, I am at home wherever and whenever I am with the people I love.

My sister and I refer to our physical home in the Philadelphia suburbs as “the armpit.”  Indeed, stepping off the airplane and experiencing the moist rankness of the summer heat last night, I felt as though I had been thrust under the arms of a pubescent weight-lifter.   Don’t get me wrong, I am very blessed to live in a beautiful home.  However, vacations and attending college across the country have exposed me to the possibilities of a better quality of life elsewhere.

So, while it is nice to be “home,” I already can’t wait to escape the armpit and vacation in Maine with my family.

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