I live about a mile from where I grew up.

My mother said that I had no choice. She believed that nuts don’t fall far from the tree.

After high school, I couldn’t wait to get away from home. A few years away and I couldn’t wait to get back home. Home offered the comfort and warmth of familiarity, family and friends as well as the richness of memories. I needed to move away to learn to appreciate having the home-field advantage.

You only live once. Why do you live where you do?

Did you inherit the castle?

If you aren’t running a kingdom, why do you live where you do?

Coming up with a reason can be like trying to put a headlock on a shadow.

You could live where you do for a number of reasons.

You were born or hatched here. You married someone who was born here.

You went to school here. You married someone who went to school here.

You have family here. You married someone who has family here.

You have a job here. You married someone who has a job here.

You are lucky. You are unlucky.

You like the weather here.

A Magic 8-Ball said it was a good idea to live here.

It’s near a place where you’d like to live.

You are imprisoned.

You were flimflammed by a real estate salesman.

You are avoiding a fault line.

Your igloo melted.

Urban sprawl makes you feel like a pioneer in a covered wagon.

The Weather Channel tricked you.

Speaking of The Weather Channel, isn’t it amazing when friends and relatives call from Arizona, Florida, California and Texas in the winter? These snowbirds always ask the same thing, “How is the weather there?”

They know how the weather is here. They get The Weather Channel. They don’t call when we have unseasonably warm weather. They call during blizzards.

Maybe you want to live near a particular hospital, school, shopping area, sweet corn, apples or butterflies. Or woods, lake, river, park, fishing, golf course, mountains or entertainment. You want to live where there is little traffic, good roads or low crime rate. Perhaps you enjoy living near a clean public restroom.

You talked yourself into living here.

You went on vacation and became lost here.

It’s a central point for you and your spouse as you drive opposite directions to work.

You live as far away as possible from your mother-in-law and still remain within the borders of this country.

You are part of the Federal Witness Protection Program. That’s where most brothers-in-law come from.

Nowhere else would have you.

You don’t want to live where the cars drive on the wrong side of the road.

You are the president of the United States.

You live here for no apparent reason or you’ve forgotten the reason you live here.

You like it here because it could be worse or it’s better than recess.

I haven’t lived in many places, but I’ve lived in a few. I liked them all. There didn’t seem to be much point in disliking any of them. There was a sense of place with each home.

I live in a place frequently referred to as “Where is that?” Or “It’s over there somewhere.”

A normal person and I live here. I will never live in a place long enough to be able to say, “I know where everything is.”

You should live where you like. I realize that’s part of a perfect world and it’s not always possible. Please live anywhere except in a state of despair.

Many years ago, I visited a friend’s home. It was a hovel-squalid and ramshackle. It didn’t bother me. I didn’t judge or say anything critical of his shanty. He must have thought that I was going to give an unfavorable review because he said, “If you have any complaints about where I live, raise your hand and use it to cover your mouth.”

Good advice.

I live where I live. I like where I live. It’s an island of calm in the world’s turbulent sea.

I tell myself that all weather is good weather, but I don’t live here for the weather. I live here because I like the people here.

Every location is famous for something.

I’m proud to live where a Norwegian fellow is credited with inventing the toilet seat.

But it took a Swede to think of cutting a hole in it.

Al Batt’s columns appear every Wednesday and Sunday.