It’s been awhile since my last adventure. Today, I thought I’d go back in time. I went for a hike this morning, for the sake of calling it anything else. It was nothing more or less than taking a stroll up this big hill that started my love for hiking. Sometimes you just need to go back to the beginning to make sense of things.
I used to think that I knew where home was. But through the years I’ve discovered that home could be so many things. It could be the place that raised you or the back roads you drive around on while the world is sleeping. It could be the feeling you get in the pit of your stomach when you see her for the first time, every time. Home is not a landmark. Home isn’t any one destination.
It’s that feeling you get when you know you’re where you’re supposed to be. It’s a journey, like so many things are. We won’t always know where to stop, but maybe that’s the most important part. Home is that place in your heart that you’ll always carry with you. So in the end you’ve been there all along. It’s up to you to recognize it.
Trust your body. Trust your feet. Close your eyes but don’t be blind. Listen, but hear the world around you. Home is nowhere, and everywhere.