After my childhood home suffered from a fire, “home” became illusive. We moved to a new residence for the first time. I was in an in-between state, displaced. Even after we moved back in once repairs were made, the disruption made a wrinkle in my experience of home. We moved away shortly after. Since then, “home” has become an ephemeral space. I sense it in the woods sometimes, hidden between the trees. Home is but a feeling, fleeting.