Revision

Waking to the roar of astronauts’ jets as they scream overhead…

That’s how I know I am home.

The familiar streets and trees and houses and schools: The ones I rode my bike past a million times…

That’s how I know I am home.

The best Mexican food — ever — and the best company to share it with: My Dad.

That’s how I know I am home.

The wonderful smell of Mom’s homemade bread toasting…

That’s how I know I am home.

The clerks and waiters who smile, look you in the eye and greet you with a friendly, “Howdy!”

That’s how I know I am home.

Good friends call to go to lunch. The kind of friends you know you’ll have for the rest of your life. The kind that you can really be yourself around. The ones you love to laugh with. Whose triumphs and heartaches touch you as if they were your own.

That’s how I know I am home.

When thick, heavy, humid air envelopes me as I walk to my car … When I think I am going to melt away … and I get so hot I think I am going to die…

That’s how I know I am home.

When flashes of light illuminate the sky and bursts of thunder shake the window panes.

That’s how I know I am home.

When my Mom peeks in because she knows the thunder still scares me…

That’s how I know I am loved.