Coming Home

I love that Diddy-Dirty Money song, I have it on repeat.  It got me through a lot of tough times, waiting for that time to come home.  And to put words to what I felt, was a powerful thing.  I don’t usually take out lyrics, but for this one, sitting at the Chicago O’Hare airport, almost at that destination I call home, it makes me choke up it’s so beautiful.

I’m coming home, I’m coming home
Tell the world I’m coming home
Let the rain wash away
All the pain of yesterday

I know my kingdom awaits
And they’ve forgiven my mistakes
I’m coming home, I’m coming home
Tell the world that I’m coming

I’m back where I belong
Yeah I never felt so strong
I’m feelin’ like there’s nothing that I can’t try
(I’m back, baby)
And if you with me put your hands high
(Put your hands high)

At the place you call home, your sins, imagined or otherwise, are forgiven, you regain your strength, and you gain the courage to keep on moving on.  Doing your thing. Whatever that is.  Knowing that most people won’t understand you, knowing that most people will judge you, knowing that most people will think and say things about you that will make you cringe, it doesn’t matter when you are home. Because home is where people know your truest self, and they see the goodness in you that sometimes you yourself forget.  They forgive, they give you tough love, they make you see the ugly truth, but they give you the courage to change.  Or stay the same.  Whichever one is really needed.

And home doesn’t have to be the place you grew up, and home doesn’t have to be one location. I think the beautiful thing about this concept of home is that if you live life to the fullest, and you get a tad bit lucky, I imagine there may be multiple places you call home.

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