Last night I had some folks over for my last hosted meal in Jtown. This morning I read Torah to commemorate my 14 years anniversary of my Bat Mitzvah and this afternoon I headed to a friends' house where there was much singing, dining and political interchange. Just a regular shabbat in the holy land.

As I begin to pack my stuff and say goodbye to my roommates, my home, my friends and teachers, my gardens and my vistas, I'm struck by how this city and country will always be a second home to me. I've lived other places longer. Heck, I spent 3 1/2 academic years in Claremont, CA and 13 years in suburban New York, and neither one are mine like Jtown will always be.

How does a place become a home? Why does SF resonate as home, where other abodes were simply residences? Is it because there are people similar to you or because you comfortably deviate from the norm?

The concept of "home" has been on the mind as I prepare to move *again* but this time to a place where I will probably stay for a while, at least 3 years. Can a place feel like a home if a series of roommates move in and out? Can I make a home in tiny studio? What does the physical space need to become mine?

Some lessons I've learned by moving throughout the past few years:

• Planting and growing things make a place homelike. At the moment, I'm interviewing perspective adoptive parents for my basil and nana. Let me know if you are interested. References requested. (*snicker*) You can't take them with you.
• Home seems to have less to do with expensive matching items, and more to do with pure comfort.
• True homes are always easily made ready for dinner or overnight guests.
  
• Good lighting, important.
  
• Bright colors, essential.
• LOCATION, LOCATION, LOCATION