Where the Wind Blows

If I were to write the story of my life so far, what would be the thing that drives the action?

This is what comes to mind:

1973 - Manila, Philippines
1974 - Kotakinabalu, Malaysia
1975 - Tehran, Iran
1980 - Manila, Philippines
1985 - Salwa, Kuwait
1988 - San Francisco, CA
1989 - Carson, CA
1990 - San Pedro/Santa Monica/Torrance, CA
1995 - Berkeley, CA
2001 - New York, NY

When you've lived in this many places, which do you miss the most?

The Road Home

That is the title of a book I finally finished reading after two or three weeks.  That's a long time for me -- usually, a book will not remain unread longer than a few days once I decide to attack.  

I chatted with my old friend Jon today and he is the reason I finished the book.  It's been years since I've seen Jon.  He is the first person I've shared this blog with.  Will he read it? Maybe I'll never know.  I don't really need to know. 

Jon lives in New Zealand with his wife and son.  He is thinking of coming back to New York.

When we were chatting, my mind kept on going back to The Road Home, how the character is constantly homesick and longing. Then I'd go back to Jon. I think he is homesick and longing. 

The book and Jon don't have much in common beyond this homesickness.  I just thought it was strange that it took a conversation with an old friend to give me the motivation to finish a book that I love but for some reason, could not stay with.

This is kind of a pointless entry. Maybe I just want to be able to say that I came out of the closet to someone I care about -- I told someone I'm blogging about grief.  I told them where to find me.  That's something isn't it? And I finished Rose Tremain's lovely book. I rushed to the ending even though I didn't want it to be over.