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Appropriately enough, the first time I remember hearing Jon Foreman's song Southbound Train was while Depreena and I were on the overnight train from Chiang Mai to Bangkok. Oh I guess they'll say I've grown I know more than I wanted to know I've said more than I wanted to say I'm headed home Yeah, but I'm not so sure That home is a place You can still get to by train So I'm looking out the window And I'm drifting off to sleep With my face pressed up against the pane With the rhythm of my heart And the ringing in my ears It's the rhythm of the southbound train. Coming back to China for what is, in all likelihood, my last year to live here, the lyrics feel even more true. Beyond my favorite flippant answer of "wherever my phone charger is plugged in," I'm not sure how to answer when people ask where home is. Western Pennsylvania. Sichuan. Bloomington. My parents' house. Geneva. The Powells