A Sort of Homecoming

When I came back for my first Christmas after leaving for college, and accidentally, casually, referred to Toronto as 'home', my mother clenched around the eyes and looked away. Of course, in Toronto, I sat in the wood-pannelled dining hall and discussed home (referring to my mother's house) with various friends.

These days it gets more complicated: home is, variously, Ottawa, Toronto, and New York.

It occurs to me that home is simply where I'm not.

Is this bad?