I try to explain to my homeless Navy brat sweetie, time and again. I have a Home, and it's the needle that will show the way, again and again. I can live elsewhere and be happy, and maybe someday, some other special place will be Home. I'm not ruling it out.
I'm not that hung up on Home. It's just like some kind of birthmark... I have one of those, as well. A kid with a splotch in the middle of their forehead may not look like that, when they grow up. If they're lucky. There it is, under the hair, for the rest of their lives. Maybe we're enslaved by it, maybe not. I'm choosing NOT, unless I need to come home, in which I'll take full advantage, and enjoy.
The idea that I should live life as a tourist, with eyes open and wondering, instead of taking what's there for granted, has become an important one during our years overseas.