If I’m up for a yearlong round-the-world adventure and can take only one thing to remind me of home, I’d pack a pot for preparing fresh grinned turkish coffee so I could prepare it the way I usually drink it every morning at home.
Also I’d record a video of my black cat Zvereux performing his ‘gratitude dance’ hunting little bits of sausage all around the apartment. That way I could play it over and over again every time I think of him. I do travel a lot, sometimes I sleep in others people’s homes, sometimes in luxurious hotels and apartments, sometimes the company is so nice I can say it feels like home. But home is where the soul is and a whole-night purring caress over my chest can pretty much determinate my soul’s coordinates.