feels like home to me

There's a Norah Jones song that came out several years ago called "the prettiest thing"
the lyrics follow, because they've been in my head for an entire week...

the prettiest thing
I ever did see
Was lightning from the top of a cloud
Moving through the dark a million miles an hour
With somewhere to be

So why does it seem
Like a picture
Hanging up on someone else's wall
Lately I just haven't been myself at all
It's heavy on my mind

I'm dreamin' again
Like I've always been
And way down low
I still know

The prettiest thing
I ever did see
Was dusty as the handle on the door
Rusty as a nail stuck in the old pine floor
Looks like home to me

Now I'm dreamin' again
Like I've always been
And way down low
I'm thinkin' of the prettiest thing

It's funny to me -- how this strange place in the middle of Nonthaburi, Thailand, called GES in English, and Satit Christian Wittaya in thai, with its funny quirks, its disorganization, its horrible smells, and its backwards culture, feels like home.

De and I got home late last night, and the taxi driver was very confused when we asked him to drop us off at the side of the dark road, until we pointed to the Thai sign on the fence. And it's one of those things: it feels like home to me. In all honesty, I don't know why I love this place so much, but I do.
I love the way it makes me uncomfortably hot. I love eating from vendors on the street, and smelling the delicious food. I love the stories of students, and the craziness that goes along with the administrators here -- inexplicably building new buildings, and taking on more than they can feasibly handle...

And yet, none of that explains why I love this place so much. It's filled with great memories, and hard memories at the same time. I was down at the Post Cafe this afternoon, with my journal, and as I sat down with my milkshake (which was more like icecream with a straw), all those memories came flooding back to me: the feelings of wishing I was home, the frustration of being left out of family events, the stress of being a teacher -- it all came back.
And still, I love this place.

As the plane touched down on the tarmac, I could help but feel like I was back at home. Maybe now I have two homes, and the pull to Canada is greater.

Strange how it happens, and there's no explaination, but it feels like home to me...