Where is home?

Driving back to Baltimore in the dead of night. Fog, long wait at the border with lots of odd questions too, staying awake or taking cat-naps.

Edouard has set up the computer for my parents and my father seems absolutely delighted. It took so much convincing and pushing to make this happen, and my mother remains skeptical, but so far we have video-chatted twice and my father is involved and interested and happy about it. Whew! My mother remains resistant and I doubt she will take the time to learn how to use the computer, but she is enjoying the video-chat already. I wish we had done this years ago, but Eric reminds me that the video-chat/skype technology has been available only six months now, so we made it happen at exactly the right time. Edouard has gone through the various steps over and over with my father, but I believe that as long as it all goes well, he will be fine, but as soon as there is a serious glitch, it will be too hard to make it work again. We will use it regularly when we are in Ecuador, to communicate with all the family and to reassure me that my parents are doing well and vice versa. Skype will keep us in touch with all our family members without the usual obstacles.

We had an overdose of family this past week. For me, it was the last time in months and months to see them. I am not sure it will be possible for any of them to visit. Travel is strenuous for both my parents, I can see that they are much happier at home in a familiar environment.

I wonder about where home is anymore. My parents feel at home in Edmonton; they are connected to the place through friends and memories and the house. I have lived in Baltimore for eight years, and it is where my children have gone to school and where I have worked and made friends and had my home. But during the last few days I have been asking Eric what are the chances of getting a job in Montreal. The city was so full of energy and very appealing and I have wonderful memories of the years of internship and general practice in the early eighties. Perhaps because I am closing up the practices and moving out of the house, it feels as if we are leaving Baltimore behind and that it is no longer home, and that after the year in Ecuador, we may never return. Home is where your family is, but my family is scattered all over, so where do we belong after this great adventure of ours? What if Quito feels like home and we do not return. Moving from Baltimore feels so very final. I am not burning any bridges, but this move feels like it only goes one way.