My Home

So this is a little imitation of Brautigan's "My Name"

I have been home many times, even though they say that it's impossible. People often shake their heads and disagree. To them, I say:
Have you ever walked a sun-warmed street in bare feet?
That is my home.
Maybe you woke one morning to the smell of french toast, burning slightly in the pan.
That is my home.
Or you put on a sweater from the dryer and remained inside for a few extra moments just to enjoy the warmth, like a jack still in the box.
That is my home.
Sometimes when it's raining, I turn off the TV and sit by the open window, breathing in the scent of clean, fresh earth.
That it my home.
Better still, there have been times when I've caught a glimpse of someone's face and smiled.
They are my home.
And there are more just waiting to be found.