There’s no shame in coming home—how many times has my mother said that to me over the years? I agreed with her, but after I left Sailors Beach, it was not clear where that was, if it could be anywhere at all. I thought that if no place could ever house everyone I loved, whatever home I hoped to make could only be shaped by absence. It didn’t occur to me that perhaps a home is never a fixed or stable thing but something that can be carried with you and remade.
