There’s No Place Like Home

The other day I realized I needed to renew my driver’s license. Believing that there’s no time like the present, I proceeded to go ahead and take care of the renewal before it slipped my mind. I pulled into the parking lot of the DMV and considered myself fortunate when a car pulled out so I could grab the parking space it had just occupied. The parking lot was full, so I knew I was going to have a long wait in line.

Sure enough, when I entered the building, there was a long line which had formed for people waiting to renew their driver’s license. I pulled a waiting ticket which revealed that my number was 479; the number on the board showed that they were waiting on  number 456.  At that moment I was thankful that I had worn my best pair of tennis shoes.

I felt so uncomfortable waiting in this line of strangers where no one even knew my name. I was just a number to everyone. I could have been nonexistent and no one could have cared less. As a matter of fact, those behind me in line would have been glad if I were nonexistent because then they would have reached the front of the line all the sooner.

It’s so easy in this huge world to feel nonexistent at times, especially when you are among strangers, and that’s exactly how I felt at that moment—nonexistent. I was so glad when my number was called. Even then I was still treated as only just a number.

I really can’t blame the staff at the DMV; they were only trying to do their jobs as efficiently as possible, but it still left me feeling as though I were only a number, one number in a million numbers.

On the drive home, I contemplated how often a person has this feeling of being nonexistent—at the DMV, at the doctor’s office, at the post office, at any number of places on any given day.

I had been born and lived in a big city all my life, so I wondered: are things any different in a small town?  Maybe so, but would I ever have the chance to find out? I doubt it. So I guess I’ll always have to wonder.

Then I pulled into my driveway. As I opened my car door, my husband opened the kitchen door to our house, and our little toy poodle Lucy dashed out the door to meet me, her fluffy tail wagging furiously as she tried to jump up into my lap before I could even get a foot out and onto the ground. She began to lick my face, letting me know just how glad she was to see me.

I’m not just a number to her, a nonexistent nobody. To her I am her mistress. To her I am the one who feeds her, walks her, plays with her, brushes her, scratches behind her ears, rubs her belly, and gives her love. To her I am the world. To her I am everything. To her I am immense.

In that moment, there was no doubt in my mind as to where I would much rather be. Home. There’s no place like home.

QUOTE FOR THE DAY:  “Home is the place that goes where you go, yet it welcomes you upon your return. Like a dog overjoyed at the door. We’ve missed you is what you hear, no matter how long you’ve been gone.”  ~ Michael J. Rosen ~

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