That’s what I used to say under my breath for years, when I was alone, when my thoughts were elsewhere and I hadn’t put a guard on my mouth.
It always puzzled me because I was “home.” I had been brought home as an infant to that house, and we had never lived in any other. I never said it anywhere else, either.
But for years, I would say it, under my breath and because I had to: “I want to go home.”
I’ve never said it since. But yes, I did say it once, though. In the house I live in now. And I still don’t know why.
white pebble 