I'm home.

Just looking at these words brings tears to my eyes.

I'm home.

Wednesday morning I woke up in Austin. Thursday morning I woke up in San Antonio. Friday morning I woke up in New Orleans. Home. Where the heart is. Where I hang my hat. Where the weather suits my cloths. New Orleans, the true "Home of the Brave". When I drove over that bridge and saw "Louisiana State Line" I was about as happy as a pig in poop. I would have kissed the ground but at 80 miles per hour the asphalt burns would have been a bit much.

I'm back home because it IS home. Austin is a great town, but it isn't HOME. I know some in this world have, at times, questioned my sanity. Noone more than myself. For this move, I was in rare form. I got settled in my new apartment in Tarrytown on February 1st. This was the first "permanent" address I'd had since April 1st of 2007. It was a spectacular place in a quiet secure (nobody locked their doors!) neighborhood, with great views and easy access to everything I might need. At night I would lie in bed looking out the windows, enjoying the solitude.

I did that one night in mid-February and realized that I had to leave. Huh? I just GOT here! I knew that, despite the professional promise of Austin, the great new friends I had gathered and the cool new apartment, this would not be home for a long, long time. New Orleans was (and is) home.

So, two weeks into my residency in my cool new pad, I did what any self-respecting wacko would do: I started packing. All my new Austin friends were very supportive. They'd seen the look in my eyes every time I'd talk of home. I think some of them knew that it was just a matter of time.

So did friends and fans in New Orleans. Whenever I would visit, I would always bump into someone I knew or who knew my music. They would ask where I'd been and I'd say, "I've moved to Austin." They would inevitably nod their heads and say, "You'll be back." They were right. I'm back.

And, I'm so happy.