“If you miss the train I’m on, you will know that I am gone. You can hear the whistle blow a hundred miles.” So goes the haunting folk song from the sixties.

There’s something about a train whistle, when the Doppler effect causes its sound to change as it moves away, that has always evoked a sense of sadness, just like that folk song does.

“Lord, I’m one; Lord, I’m two; Lord, I’m three; Lord, I’m four; Lord, I’m five hundred miles away from home.”

Having lived twice outside the United States, I know too well the tug of homesickness. It doesn’t matter if you’re abroad arranging an overseas property investment or stationed at a foreign military installation. No matter how much you enjoy where you are, it still feels like you’re visiting.

I also know that unless you’ve only ever lived one place in your life, somewhere else can become home, in time. It’s true. Home is where our heart is.