One Day I walked into the kitchen where my mother was standing and said, “I want to go home.” She shook her head, confused. “What do you mean? You are home.” I repeated my solemn statement. “I want to go home.” I didn’t know what I meant any more than she did. All I knew was that the feeling had returned and was growing stronger — the feeling of emptiness, longing, and hunger. Something was calling to me. And the only words I could find to describe it were, I want to go Home.”

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