home is where the heart is.

(let’s just pretend that this picture also has a heart about 80 miles south, okay?)

Perhaps my father said it best:
“So, it’s not that you don’t like Boston,
but it’s not home.”

Yes.
Exactly.

And this week has been exactly what I needed.

I’m still figuring out a lot of things about myself, about where my heart is, and about where I’m supposed to be after this year of JVC is over. And right now, my heart is so wrapped up in Casserly, the people I work with, my housemates, and this whole experience that sometimes it’s hard to find a larger perspective.

But–and this is really important–while I am undoubtedly certain that I belong in Boston this year, my heart belonged here first. Way before I memorized the route of the Orange Line and the streets of Jamaica Plain, I loved these country roads. And I will always belong here in a way that is best summed up by old country songs on the radio.

And that’s a good reminder.

Forever and ever, amen.

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