Which way is home?

Recently, the thought that keeps floating through my mind in those few quiet moments I have (there are few of them because I try to keep my life as noisy as I can tolerate to avoid these exact thoughts) is: I want to go home.

The only problem is, I have no idea where that would be.

Born and raised in Chicago, one would think that this city would naturally fall into place as my "home." The place I would wind up if I clicked my ruby slippers and wished myself away. However, after living in Michigan for the passed four and a half years, I'm finding readjusting to Chicago life...challenging. That is putting it mildly.

My father told me recently, that oftentimes our souls (or spirits or whatever you want to call our inner beings) take longer to move than our physical bodies. Like my spirit is still on the road from Michigan to Chicago despite my physical being having been here for nearly two months. Like my spirit is just taking it's sweet time. Like it decided it would be fun to take a leisurely ride on a turtle to get here. Like by the time it gets here I will have moved on to my next destination. Like I will never be reunited with my spirit again, though that seems melodramatic.

I like to imagine a little spirit Hannah wandering through a forest somewhere between Southwest Michigan and Chicago, watching the leaves change colors, maybe taking a nap inside tree hole while visiting with her new friend Mr. Squibbles the Squirrel.

"Mr. Squibbles," she would say after awaking from her nap, "how is it that you leave this tree hole every day and find your way back to it every night? And as a follow-up, do you think of this tree hole as your home?"

Mr. Squibbles, being quite the host has brought out the finest of his acorn collection for the evening's entertaining. He looks down at the small spirit with a twitch and a beady blink. "I wouldn't say I find my way back here every night. In fact, I live in this tree, only when I find it. Other times I live in other trees."

"But don't you ever wish you could find a particular tree? Don't you ever wonder which way your home is?"

"As long as I have food to eat, a warm spot to sleep, and a bushy tail to chase, I'm pretty sure I am home."

"But when you're feeling really lost and you can't decide which tree to sleep in, what then?"

"Follow the nuts."

"That would sound dirty if you weren't a squirrel."

"Indeed," Mr. Squibbles would say, knocking an nut on the rim of the tree hole, as squirrels are like to do.

"Since you are a squirrel though..."

"Since I am a squirrel, I mean follow the food. Follow the things that make you happy and let you thrive. It's not enough to live."

"Well, that's very deep for a squirrel. Thank you."

Though Mr. Squibbles is merely a squirrel of the imagination, I can't imagine a real squirrel thinking that differently from the fictitious Mr. Squibbles. Follow the things that make you happy, follow the things that will not only let you survive but will let you thrive. So the only question I have to answer is, what will make me happy at this point in my life? If I find the answer to that oh so simple question, maybe I'll find an answer to the question of what I should do with my immediate future.

Follow the nuts. Find home.