As sad as Country Strong was, there is something about country music that lifts my spirits - broken trucks, cheating lovers, drunken nights and missing dogs excepted.
When I hear country music, I smile. My toes tap. I want to dance. To laugh. To be with friends.
John Denver said it long ago, "Country roads, take me home, to the place, I belong.....", maybe not to West Virginia, but to home. Wherever that is.
I recently had a revelation. I realized something: on Facebook I cannot list a hometown. It has dawned on me that I don't have one.
If home is where the heart is, I suppose I'm "home" whenever I'm with my kids. But those are their homes, not mine.
I suppose I could list Lake Arrowhead. Or I could list Roslyn. Or Utah. I could list Albuquerque. I could list DC or Virginia. But none of them are really home. Not yet. Not any more. So I'm leaving FB blank, for now.
I have no place I call home. Or maybe I have many homes.
I think there's a country song here somewhere.
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