I go from my kitchen which is heated to my bathroom with running water. I change the sheets on my bed and fluff the comforter. I crack the window a bit to bring in fresh air. I notice the generous pile of books I have bedside that I will devour like candy.
And the words that stay in my head are the words of a man I know from the streets who said recently, huddled over, enveloped beneath his hood, in a quiet broken voice 'I just wanna go home.'