coming home.

There's no place like home...there's no place like home...there's no place like home [click heels together three times]. Oh! don't get me wrong, I love traveling. I'm giddy waking up in new places, delight in that moment of, where the heck am I? I love taking in the sights. soaking up the local scene. inhaling the smells. tasting the native cuisine. the whole different-ness of a new place. that certain eccentricity that make it so unlike my every day. It's fun. exciting.  always an adventure. But, no matter where I go, no matter what I'm doing, sooner or later it always hits me. That longing for familiar. ordinary. simple. routine. I crave the sights, sounds and smells that gets my heart to singing. I get that certain feeling, that let's me's time to go home.

It's no secret that I love the ocean and it is this desire that propels me to get the hell out of Dodge (or more precisely, Hudson). In my more melancholy moods, a mosaic of fleeting images and dusty memories stir in my mind, clear and bright as a radiant sunrise on a seemingly endless summer day. Images I've carried for so long, like photos in a wallet worn and creased with too much handling. The first time I saw the heart was thundering so loud in my ears I was sure everyone could hear it. I felt flushed and excited as if I were coming down with the flu. I was instantly overcome by a longing so powerful and primitive that before I could wrestle it to the ground it had me by the heart. I stepped into the cold salty water and felt my soul being washed clean. There was nothing else, no past, no present no pain real or imagined, not even wishful thinking, there was only the ocean...filling me with it's scent like a summer day. I've let that memory carry me the span of several heart beats. decades. throughout my entire life. Oh deep blue sea, how I love you! Fickle though you may be, your beauty, your generosity, your total awesomeness makes the temper tantrums worthwhile. I am already feeling the loss of leaving you, even as I gaze upon you. as I dream about moving on. to the next experience. even as I put on my gypsy shoes to discover new places, meet new people, always awaiting the next adventure. 

man this just never gets old!

Yet, as I walk away I can't help but look over my shoulder wistfully at what I am leaving behind. A sense of melancholy tugs at my heart knowing you'll go on without me. Your tide eternally kissing the shore, littering it with your gifts, waves will swell, your magic tug will pull me back much as the moon pulls at you, you have a hold on my heart...I feel it beat to your rhythm, constant. strong. passionate. Snow will melt, flowers will bloom as I am far away searching for sea glass, dumping sand from my shoes...and discovering sea shells in my pocket.

So, with thoughts of home I can't help but think of the absolute devastation in Japan. I've watched the news along with the rest of the world. I am humbled by the beauty of a gracious people pulling together, the beauty of a life spared, of a reunion of loved ones who were thought lost. I think the best way to honor the point being made is about being grateful for what you have...a warm bed, clean clothes, food on the table, time spent with loved ones. And by doing the best you can in your life with whatever it is that you do...if your a teacher, a doctor, a cook, a mother...Be grateful, compassionate, and help in any way that you can.
 red cross   socks for Japan
 doctors without borders   

 So, there you have it. I'm back home with my puppies, sleeping in my own bed, cooking in my own kitchen and dreaming of my next adventure.  Ahhhhhh......(big sigh).

Yes, I love traveling...but, you know what I love even more?  coming home. 

 Rich Corn Bread


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