As I walked into the vastness of St. Peter's Square, I was at home. Somehow, being amongst 249,999 other Catholics didn't phase me in the least. The intimacy and communion between all the faithful was comforting, and I could have sat in the hubbub for hours more.
Kneeling at Blessed John Paul II's tomb in St. Peter's Basilica, I simultaneously felt like an ant and an elephant. The blessing of being a Catholic in a Catholic Church is that it is familiar. Despite the tour groups passing through behind me, I might as well have stayed there forever. Again, I felt at home.
Yeah, this is Home. I've been searching for a place of my own.
Now I've found it.
It's not exactly simple for me to understand how I can walk through the streets of Rome, wander through alleyways in Assisi, and feel like I've been there my whole life. Like I belong there. This is why I am hesitant to call my home in Virginia my sole home. I miss people in the States, but I am not homesick in the least. Because somehow, I find home wherever I am.