Nothing can separate you from your true home

MY mother once wrote of the place in which she lived alone in her later years, "This little house is not my home; it couldn't hold the half of it."

I found that expansive concept of home very freeing, and, more recently, thought about it many times in the five weeks following Hurricane Katrina—when I moved 11 times. During much of this time, I didn't know that had happened to my house and its furnishings in New Orleans, or to many other things that meant a lot to me.

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From refugee to refuge found
November 21, 2005
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