Today I sit at my favourite cafe. I debate how I should spell favourite/favorite when I write that line (as I do mum and mom).

I think back to writing sentimental posts about my Saturday morning places in Princeton over a year ago.

And now here I sit.

As I stood in line at the counter this morning a girl on the other side asked if I was here for "my" veggie sandwich... the one she'd suggested I get months ago. The sandwich we'd bonded over.

The girl who took my order asked if this was my morning alone. Yes it is, I said with a smile. I'd forgotten that we'd talked about that awhile ago.

I know exactly what I will order and where I will sit. I can pick out the locals from the tourist. I know the man sitting at the bench is one of the owners and not a customer. I know and love the quote by the bike rack. I read it every time.

And it feels like home.

And not of course because of this moment only, but the collections of moments over the last year and a half. //The ladies I sat around the table with last night... almost one year exactly of sharing our stories, laughing, living out pain and joy together. Letting each other in a bit more as the days go by.

//And the job I took and started this past week, back into social work. That feels like going home in a way to something known and familiar.

//And the suicide bereavement group that will start in just over a week from now. And, although it is somewhat new territory, it's another way that we, as a church, are putting our roots deep into the soil of our community and that feels like home.

I could go on and on, the way any of us could about our own communities that we deeply love.

I guess all to say that today I feel very blessed to have multiple places in the world to call home, that truly feel "home".