Hometown or place of residence?

I've been thinking a lot about living situations lately and how "hometown" is defined.

This weekend, Susie the Sister took her husband and three kids 10 and under with her from Green Bay to suburban Boston, where she was honored for her high school athletic achievements.

It was the kids' first time to Boston. She lived there, midway between Boston and Providence, and graduated from high school before coming back to Wyoming to attend UW and run cross country.

Scott the Brother didn't really ever live at "the New England house," in that wonderful neighborhood that looked like something out of an Americana painting, but started medical school in Worcester while the parents were there.

I've often wondered what it would be like to go "home" to the town where I was raised and stay in the house I grew up in - in the second floor bedroom with neon lemon yellow shag carpeting and yellow and white shiny vinyl wallpaper.

None of us three ever did that.

But that's not to say we were deprived.

On the contrary, although I would absolutely love it if Peggy Jane the Mom still lived in Laramie, it was very cool to be able to do the tourist thing and be a guest while seeing the parents in Detroit, where all of my extended family was still living. In Boston, in suburban Los Angeles, in beautiful Phoenix and in Green Bay.

And then, when I had had my fill of great shopping and great restaurants and family, I'd get on a plane and come "home" to Wyoming.

One of many highlights of our 30 hours in Laramie for Homecoming earlier this month was a 15-hour - not even kidding - party hosted by delightful friends celebrating two milestones.

Early in the day, while I was trying to figure out how to keep the olives in my breakfast beverage from sinking, someone tugged on my sleeve and said, "Don't want to interrupt, just want to say, 'Welcome home.'"

That simple two-word phrase started the daylong waterworks flowing.

Mouse the Daughter has yet to spend the night in the second bedroom at my new nest, but promises she will at Thanksgiving, and then again during Christmas break.

I wouldn't even pretend that that's her "home," but she knows that she is welcome absolutely whenever - in the middle of the night, for morning coffee, to get good sleep - absolutely any time. She has a key, and she knows she is welcome always.

She will decorate the Christmas tree in my nest because she absolutely hates the way I do it and has already scheduled time to do so.

She has requested a whole pumpkin pie, in addition to the regular Thanksgiving leftovers, to take with her when she leaves. And she's begun thinking about what she will use for Christmas decorations at her place.

I get to go home again Tuesday, when I'll be signing books in the Administration Building of the Cathedral Home for Children in Laramie from 4 to 7 p.m. Whether they buy books or not, I hope friends of Peggy Jane the Mom and Fritz the Dad are able to come by and say "Hi."

There may be no family left there, but it will always be home.

Community News editor Sally Ann Shurmur can be reached at (307) 266-0520 or sallyann.shurmur@trib.com