Returned

I feel like a letter that has an incorrect address. I keep getting sent on, not knowing where my home address really is. Last week I got to spend a week at "home". That means I went to WV and stayed with my folks while the boys went to 4H camp. I taught a class at camp, but otherwise I spent the time at the home place, walking, resting, writing, planning, and visiting. The lightning bugs were absolutely beautiful, as always.
I had needed to go home. I noticed at the beginning of June, returning from a trip to Richmond, that it seemed awfully flat when I got into my county. I need the hills, I thought. I was right. I enjoyed walking the hills to sit on a log and look over the ridge into the distance. I walked the mile to my old elementary school and watched the deer in the fields next to me. I ventured into an area I had never explored before and realized just how steep some of those WV hills can be!
But at the end of the week, I came home. How can that be? How can I go home and then return to home? Home is where the heart is. Memories of my childhood, of familiar places and people, of traditions and inflections make my heart jump. Resting in my Lover's arms, sharing a joke with him and the boys, petting my goats, returning to my church make me feel at peace.
I guess that is how I best explain my desire to be in Heaven. Heaven is home, but here is home too. Both bring me joy and peace. So my envelope is addressed, the stamp is licked and placed, and the flag is up, but what time the mail carrier goes is still to be determined.