I dream of houses. But I never stay. I walk from room to room following myself in my dreams. But when I wake, I long for home. Mostly I am on the road for work - music or law - depends on the day. But when the plane touches down at SEATAC and I blink and miraculously arrive at my own doorstep, I breathe a sigh of relief and it is hard to decide which room I want to be in first. Home is where my family is, my dog, my piano, my sanctuary, my hide out, my look out, my place where I can stop being an eagle scout, just for one day.