“I had spent my whole life feeling homesick. The only difference between the two of us was that I didn't know what or where home was.”

“I thought that probably meant something - that we could only really look at each other through a looking glass. Literally.I didn't know where that thought came from, but I could feel that it was true. It had something to do with the two of us, seemingly so different, standing there side by side. There was no wall between us. But we both wanted to think there was.”

“My stepfather, John O'Hara, was the goodest man there was. He was not a man of many words, but of carefully chosen ones. He was the one parent who didn't try to fix me. One night I sat on his lap in his chair by the woodstove, sobbing. He just held me quietly and then asked only, "What does it feel like?" It was the first time I was prompted to articulate it. I thought about it, then said, "I feel homesick." That still feels like the most accurate description - I felt homesick, but I was home.”

“My skin tingled a little where she touched me. I was totally aware of that one spot more than I'd been aware of anything in my whole life. I didn't know if I wanted the feeling to go away or to feel it forever.”

“That still feels like the most accurate description - I felt homesick, but I was home.”

“After my mother died, I had a feeling that was not unlike the homesickness that always filled me for the first few days when I went to stay at my grandparents'' house, and even, I was stunned to discover, during the first few months of my freshman year at college. It was not really the home my mother had made that I yearned for. But I was sick in my soul for that greater meaning of home that we understand most purely when we are children, when it is a metaphor for all possible feelings of security, of safety, of what is predictable, gentle, and good in life.”