My heart lies all over the world.
It lies in Plassey Village in the University of Limerick and in the Stables and in the city where I used to walk.
It lies in the bustling streets of Manhattan where I smoked Newports while rushing to work in the dead heat of summer, sweating and yearning for home.
My heart lies in New Paltz in the village where I made beautiful friends and learned to appreciate people’s souls.
It lies in Lourdes with the pilgrimage and in the street outside the hotel where we kissed sober for the first time and I believed in God and angels and everything and everyone when our lips met.
This heart has a place in Naas where we have continued to build our own memories together, laughing and loving as long as we are awake.
It lies in Westmeath in the estates where we played football and made lifelong memories and in Castletown where cousins were siblings every Sunday.
My heart lies in Cork in the pitches in Rathpeacon and Blarney where I heard the crowd roar and in Blackpool where I watch my movies and in the city where countless nights and evenings have been spent with the best people.
But Cork is more.
Cork is home and home is where you recharge your batteries.
Home is driving down the road and saluting Mrs. Wiseman on her evening walk.
Home is spending hours up at the pitch taking frees and admiring the view of the city.
Home is playing Fifa and arguing rightly or wrongly that you should have won.
Home is having the craic with the brothers and watching movies till the wee hours.
Home is where your parents will still make your dinner and make sure your job is going Ok and that everyone is nice to you and that your car is running smoothly.
Home is where the extended family give you job tips and applications whether you asked for them or not.
They mean well.
Home is where you log yourself off and plug yourself in for a brief moment in this lifetime to recharge, forget and remember.
Home is here.