Can't go back?

I like talking on the phone with my mom, it makes me happy. All the trappings of home, even from a distance - stories of a weekend spent moving wood and making doors, tomato sauce cooking on the stove from garden tomatoes, the "darn" dog underfoot again (like they'd want it any other way) and so on. Brings back good memories.

Also makes me feel a little bitter sweet - Seems like no matter how hard I try, setting up in new apartments and organizing new homes for myself, there's something that I can't even close to duplicate. And I really wish I could, 'cause I feel like until I get that right, every place I live seems temporary, and a bit of a disappointing shade of brown contentment. It's like playing house, or tea party as a kid - mimicking adult things. Each time maybe it gets closer to reality, but it still feels a long ways off from a home.