It’s All Relative

It’s interesting how much the meaning of a word can change in two weeks. “Home” used to mean where I am right now: a green ranch-style house in Gretna, Nebraska.

Descending on Minneapolis at the end of a 8.5 hour plane ride, though, I found that “home” has taken on a new definition.

The sight of cars driving on the right side of the road, strategically symmetrical subdivisions and football stadiums gave me the same feeling that walking into my front door used to. 

That instant comfort that comes after entering your house after a long vacation was solidified in the MN airport when an a cappella group sang the National Anthem right outside of customs.

After writing “USA” on dozens of sheets in the box marked “origin,” I guess it only makes sense. America is my home really.

I know this isn’t close to my last trip to a foreign country, and at this pace the Milky Way will be my home within 20 years.   

It’s all relative. When your world expands, apparently, so do your words. 

They haven’t expanded enough for me to come up with an all-encompassing explanation of this trip, though. How do I explain the last two weeks to people? Well, if the question is specific, I answer it straight-forwardly.

Like, “How was the food there, Sara?”

“The fruit was great.” 

However, if the question goes general, I’m at a loss.

“How was your trip, Sara?”


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