I got locked out of my apartment last night. In the end, I ended up on Angela's couch. I met her once. I'm sitting in front of her flat screen moniter and to the left there is a dry erase board that reads, "home sweet home." It is surrounded by hearts. I can't help but feel a sense of disparity and envy.
Lying on my Peace Corps issued bed, staring at the tin roof and trying to drown out the loud pangs of what sounded like a hundred pigeons scurring about above me, I couldn't wait for a place to call home. A place where I felt safe, secure, and inspired.
In college, when we refered to the house we grew up in, the home that go our credit card statements, we would say, 'home home.'
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(trăn-zĭsh'ən) n. 1.) Passage from one form, state, style, or place to another.
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