Day Twenty-Seven

Your favorite place

I really should have one of these, shouldn't I? There was probably a time when I would have said London, but that was twenty years ago.

It's no surprise to me that a sense of a favorite place is tough to nail down. When it comes to geography, I've always felt slightly unmoored. I think that carries through in my writing and is why I often find myself writing about the concept of home. Since that's always been a mutable concept for me personally, it's been hard for me to think of it in a permanent sense. Also, home has usually felt like a choice that's been made for me, whether by circumstance (going where the job or the school was) or by other people (hi, Mom and Dad).

On a more general level, you might think I'd say my favorite place is in front of a keyboard or a notebook, ready to write something down. But, no. (Too intimidating, usually.) If I were forced to choose, I'd have to say a comfortable chair, a cat in the lap, and a book in the hand. And probably a mug or glass of something nearby.

That's not too much to ask, is it?