After a very short over-nighter in Paris, I am back in my Provence. Yes, my Provence.

This morning as I breakfasted under perfect blue skies to the quiet sounds of birds and cicadas, I was thinking how at peace I felt. I had this tremendous feeling of comfort, of being at home, wherever that home may be. Some of us find it where we were born; others find is somewhere entirely different. Home isn’t just where the heart is, for me it’s where my soul lives.

I know so many people that never want to return to the same place twice—how boring—same old, same old. Clearly I do not suffer this affliction. Perhaps it’s some sort of collective attention deficit disorder, constantly needing something new, something different, something “exciting”. Don’t get me wrong, I do love travel and new experiences (hopefully there will be a little Italy in my near future…) but I don’t let that control all my choices.

I don’t know about you, but I find it impossible to have the same experience more than once. So whether I go somewhere new, or go somewhere I’ve been thousands of times, it’s always new, always exciting. Just this morning a gentleman rode up behind me to tell me I was putting more pressure on my left leg than my right while peddling, thereby my back appeared to him pas équilibrée. No stranger has ever commented on my cycling form in France or anywhere. See? Something new, and in this case, something bizarre.

However what’s not new I am able to appreciate just as much, if not more. The gorgeous colour of the blue sky here, it’s unique to this place and this place alone. The colours are so vibrant, I imagine it’s why so many famous painters have come here. The views are breathtaking, the lavender smells heavenly and the coffee just tastes better. These things never change but never cease to delight me.

So here’s to appreciating and enjoying home, enjoying tranquility, harmony and contentment wherever you may find it.

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