In Place

I have been reflecting on the idea of Place and Home as I prepare to make a trip back to the United States to visit my family for two months. This post is part of a series of my thoughts on what it means to be part of a family, a community, a home...
Where we are, here, 
there is no other here.
There will be no going.
Never was. When we went
to Spain, to the south of France,
to the snowing Quebec streets,
to the plate of Iowa, to the Yucatan, 
to Slate Rock to camp, the wheat field
with its hay stack...
the Sainte Chapelle,
glowing, to the small town upstate,
somewhere between Syracuse and Rochester
(unlovely names, unrhythmic),
when we go next year to China,
sometime to New Zealand to see the sheep
and the sea, we were
will be, where we are,

~ Taken from the poem, In Place, by Toni Flores

Mom-in-law keeps assuring me that everything is in place. That things, both tangible and spiritual, are as they should be. I am supposed to be here (here being unfixed...where ever I am in any moment). If I continue to follow the Universe's map, I will not get lost. I am where I am supposed to be.