My friend Leslie sent me this today …

Someday, I would like to go home.  The exact location of this place, I don’t know, but someday I would like to go.  There would be a pleasing feeling of familiarity and a sense of welcome in everything I saw.  People would greet me warmly.  They would remind me of the length of my absence and the thousands of miles I had travelled in those restless years, but mostly they would tell me that I had been missed, and that things were better now I had returned.

Autumn would come to this place of welcome, this place I would know to be home.  Autumn would come and the air would grow cool, dry and magic, as it does that time of the year.  At night, I would walk the streets but not feel lonely, for these are the streets of my hometown.  These are the streets that I had thought about while far away, and now I was back, and all was as it should be.

The trees and the falling leaves would welcome me.  I would look up at the moon, and remember seeing it in countries all over the world as I had restlessly journeyed for decades, never remembering it looking the same as when viewed from my hometown.

Henry Rollins

Leslie knows that I’ll be visiting Canada in April.  The words she shared are a blessing.

“Visiting Canada” – what a strange expression for me.  I lived there for seventy-four years.  My return has virtually nothing to do with the geography and everything to do with the people.  Yes, I’ll walk those autumn streets at night and feel comfy.  But it’s the sofas and the window tables that draw me, where I will be accompanied by dear ones.  They will no doubt tell me that I’ve been missed.  We’ll become unwound together.

Home is people in Gent, in Toronto, and in London, Ontario.  I’ll be staying in Canada for sixteen nights.  Each one will be in the home of folks whom I love, and who love me.  Such a lucky me!

The “someday” is every day, as long as I connect with at least one human being in the twenty-four hours.  And why not go for ten?

I am here … wherever I go