If I nuzzle my nose deep enough into Alice’s hair, I can smell her baby self.

And it smells like home.

If I bury my face far enough into Cortney’s chest, I can block out everything that has ever happened, or is happening, or will happen.

And it feels like home.

If I look close enough at Eddie’s smiling face, I can see his sprinkle of freckles and the sparkle in his deep blue eyes.

And it looks like home.

If I listen close enough to Charlie while he plays, I can hear the stories he creates with his army guys and his dinosaurs and his hot wheels.

And it sounds like home.

If I close my eyes, I will sleep and dream of my family.

And it tastes like home.

Tomorrow I will go home.