Where is home?

Where is my home? That is a very good question as to which I have no answer. They say home is where the heart is, but what if my heart is in two very different places? (In CR with my boyfriend and Mexico with my family and the ministry we have at our church) Can I have two homes? But at the same time even though I consider “home” to be Mexico since that is where my family is, its changed. My family has continued to coexist with each other living together and sharing memories together. Memories in which I am not a part of. Memories that they can only tell me about. My role in my family is not the same. I am used to being the oldest sibling, the big sister. So obviously I go home expecting to have that same role in my family. But of course as my life goes I don’t, my sister has now put herself in the role of big sister, which is technically true when I am not there. But what happens when I am home? It are things like this that really hurt because all these different facts all point to me being homeless. Maybe I should change the name to this blog to “The Homeless Mk Nomad”.