Recently a former student saw this photograph, assuming it was my home. Not exactly: Rebel's Rest is a Sewanee guest house.
My own home, though not historical, is cozier. When I return at night, golden light and my friend Pringle's blown glass ball glow in welcome.
When I return in daylight, the forest -- either leaved or no, green or gray -- welcomes me.
Sometimes a place for guests, my house is where now I work as well as live. My home holds a cat, many works of art, more books, and even more photographs of the people I love most.
Only my family are missing, but they too make my house my home because they live in me.