I travel a lot. I have for most of my adult life. Home (childhood home) has become mixed into a multitude of places where I have lived long enough to put down roots of some kind. Home (childhood home) has become a place that I visit every couple of years to spend some time with family. Family, with the passing of my parents and oldest sister, has shrank (if it is “shrunk” then Mr. Googles steered me wrong) to one younger and two older sisters, along with a healthy smattering of nieces and nephews, in-laws and cousins once or twice removed. Many live in or near where we/they grew up. My son, born and raised in Nicaragua, emigrated to the U.S. a few years back, and now lives a distance away, but close enough that I can combine visits. Growing up with four sisters was, at times, challenging. Don’t ask them, because they will say that I lived like the king of the castle while they toiled and troubled over household chores and picking up after their pain-in-th