When I look at you, I can feel it. I look at you, and I’m home. –Dory in Finding Nemo

I just returned from a girls’ weekend trip to Park City, Utah. The mountains have represented my happy and healing place for the last few years and the Western Rockies ended up being no exception. The weather was hot and only a little humid, the sun shone everyday, and we were even treated to the crackling of a lightning storm on our last night.

The group is a mishmash of sorts. Four live in Boston, one just outside of Philly, and three of us in Southern California. Our friendships started in junior high, high school, and post-college life in Boston, so span as much as 31 years. (Side note: how is that possible??) What started out as a way for bi-coastal friends to stay accountable and learn together through the miracle of modern technology has blossomed into a doing-life-together-virtually thing. And though we have been studying together for only three years, a lot of life has happened in that time: divorces, parents’ deaths, cancer scares, family illness, kids being bullied, and more.

Yet the eight of us had never been in a room together at the same time. It was nothing short of a miracle when we picked a weekend that worked for everyone and decided to converge in Park City. (Sorry east coast friends – it really wasn’t in the “middle.”)

We ended up hanging out on the back deck of our Air BnB each morning, drinking coffee, eating avocado toast and almond kringle, and sharing our current stories.

We hiked, cried, shopped, and rested. We prayed, laughed, corn holed, and splitwised*. We drank sweet tea vodka lemonades and wine, swore like there were no kids around, and ate paella without quite enough seasoning.

And at the end of a weekend that went by too quickly, we said goodbye, with our bellies and our hearts a little fuller. In our group text thread, my friend, Kristy, described the time like this:

…you all feel like home to me. That’s it…it feels cozy and welcoming and silly and deep and I am so thankful for anytime I can come home to each of you or all of you…

Our souls nodded collectively.

Because we know that home is so much more than anything made of wood or bricks or stucco. It’s who occupies the most important nooks and crannies of your heart.

The ones who you get to see every day or every week or maybe hardly at all. The husbands and wives, sisters and brothers, daughters and sons. The friends who are like family and the family who you call friends. The tribe we call our people. The first we call when we are celebrating, and those who hold us in their (sometimes virtual) arms when our own hearts and backs are breaking. The somebodies who demonstrate love and remind us we are worthy to receive it. The faithful who remind us that joy sometimes comes alongside mourning. The never-give-up-on-you types who invade our lives in the best way possible.

So a hearty cheers and thank you to each of my people – you are home to me, and that is certainly where my heart is.

*Note: We decided Splitwise is basically the best thing since the internet, so turned it into a verb. Hey, if the meaning of literally can literally change to mean figuratively, this can be a thing too.

[Photo: Taken at the St. Regis patio at Deer Valley Resort]