Home to me is where I’m comfortable, where I feel safe and so it is not necessarily one place. My family lived-lives in a small town in really northern New York. We moved there when I was in my last year of high school. I had come from a large school on Long Island to a really small one upstate and I went off to college without thinking of this place as home. It wasn’t until many, many years later when I would go up to take care of my mother and a very ill sister, staying for a month or more to give my sister the caretaker some fresh air. That’s when it became “home” to me. In recent years I have split time between Florida and NYC but I’ve spent 55 years in the city and as I walk around different areas, see so many people from everywhere, I know this is my home, this is the place that comforts me and calls my name. But when I’m sailing in Sarasota I feel the wind and smell the sea and here I am, home again. I’m delighted to have these different senses of what home is to me.