As we approached the paese after a recent visit with family in the States, a weary, tired Young One asked from the back seat, "Is this my home, mamma?" I nodded. She continued with a declaration that she intends to live here even after she gets married but that her wedding would be at the big church in New Orleans. I told her that she would have to find just the right husband to agree to all of her demands...she mumbled something about being the boss (just like you, mamma) as she dozed to sleep.
It is good to be home.
In each passing year, I feel more connected here than there. This is now my home, too.
And we've arrived just in time to cheer for the home team Sunday. The flags are flying in the paese.