Last week I was craving home. I can’t even describe it, a magnetic feeling, wishing for the curving, flat, empty roads, the fields dotted with scrub trees, the faded farmhouses and even the plastic suburban sameness of my neighborhood, the butter-yellow house and the Barbie pink geraniums on the front steps. I’d like to think I was feeling the collective pull of this even though I didn’t know about it, but I don’t know if that’s true. I just wish I had been there.