For years when I was preparing for a trip East I’d say I was going home to visit. I don’t know when that changed. But one day I heard myself saying “I’m going East for a visit” and using the phrase “I’m going home” when I returned to Alaska. Today I come home. I miss my birds. I miss my dogs. I miss my bed and my refrigerator and my computer with the big keyboard instead of the little keyboard on the laptop that makes my fingers feel like they are big fat salamis. I’m coming home.