I was on Facebook this morning, courtesy of my VPN (and yes, EF'M, you're right - Facebook is an awful timesucker and no one should use it, yet I can't seem to give it up. It's my not-so-secret addiction.).
Anyway, there I was, reading that my friend Danielle had joined a group called "I went to Target to buy shampoo and I spent $150." I laughed and immediately wrote back "If only I could join that group. Alas, no Target in Beijing. When I'm home this summer, I'm pretty sure I'll make up for lost time..."
And then I paused.
I've lived in Beijing for almost three years. I've lived overseas for eight of the last eleven years. And yet, reflexively, I typed "when I'm home."
Where is home anyway? I thought, for now, it was here in Beijing. This is where my kids are, after all. And my husband. And my boxes of holiday decorations, and my sock drawer. Oh, and I'm here, too.
So why isn't this home?