“I felt as I did when the Second World War ended: ‘Please, I’ve done everything I’m supposed to do, can’t I go home now?’ ” he says.
A truck out on the street honks its horn and Vonnegut looks toward the restaurant’s entrance. His eyes seem to water a little and his voice lowers almost to a whisper. “Where is home? I’ve wondered where home is, and I realized, it’s not Mars or someplace like that, it’s Indianapolis when I was nine years old. I had a brother and a sister, a cat and a dog, and a mother and a father and uncles and aunts. And there’s no way I can get there again.”
The Big Goodbye
I’m going to start putting money away for it now. With any luck, I’ll be able to pick one up for myself in the next four to six months. With greater luck, they won’t have all sold by then.