Being home is always so special. I am very lucky. My parents' new puppy is named Riley. It's official now. She's bonkers. Her favourite thing to do is bite my shoelaces or anything else she can reach. All puppies do these things I guess. It's all new to me because the two other dogs in our family previously were past the puppy stage.
My Grandma had to go to California, so she left my Grandpa in a respite house for ten days. It was a spur-of-the-moment decision that surprised the rest of my family. Grandpa has rarely been away from Grandma in the last few years since his memory started to deteriorate. My parents have been visiting Grandpa and he seems happy. He doesn't know where he is and maybe that's better. I hear he's been socializing so at least he is himself. Grandpa is also clean, safe and well fed and that's what matters. Grandpa isn't home, but I hope he feels as though he is. After just leaving home myself, I can say for certain that there is no substitute for that comfort. If my theory that the notion of home is not particularly a place as much as a feeling we experience from sharing the company of others, Grandpa is OK.