In honor of National Massachusetts Day (it’s apparently a thing), please enjoy this photo of our fair capital city of Boston. She was shining like a jewel during take off on a recent flight to Minneapolis. I couldn’t resist. I never can.

I spent the formative years of my life in this great city as a resident and then as a frequent visitor. No matter where I’ve collected my mail or cast a ballot, this place has been and always will be home. And my first love.

As I write, I’m within 16 miles of the city limits. While I’ve lived in other states and visited other countries, Boston is a magnet that has drawn my soul back to it with a satisfying click. I am never more at home than when winding my way down her cowpaths-turned-streets, tripping over a cobblestone, or listening to the non-rhotic accent of my neighbors. Her quirks are those of a loved one — they become endearing with time. Well, maybe not the traffic. Every relationship has limits.

I enjoy seeing new places and revisiting well-loved destinations. Each trip reminds me of how many beautiful places there are to live in this world. Each of these places is someone else’s home, their pride and joy. It’s a privilege to share in the joy of the place they love best.

During each trip and tour, I always think, “This place is great! I could absolutely live here!” And it’s true. But I never stay. I always board the plane or get back in the car with those “Spirit of America” plates and come home to the place that completes me. Like a link in the mooring chain of the USS Constitution, a duck on the lagoon in The Public Garden, a bulb in the Citgo sign, this is where I belong. Home truly is where the heart resides.