Finding My Way Home

Woke up this morning not quite knowing what the day would bring. It was a beautiful morning, light coming through the window and the promise of rain.

I already knew what was to come; or I thought I did.

I thought, for certain, the things that I had planned would occur.

I was absolutely certain I’d go into town, check on my house, walk the dog…

Sort of.

Instead. I found my way home.

Home: a place where the heart is secure. A place where your head rests. A place where the world make sense, life has a reason, and peace is complete.

I found my way home.

I always thought this would be a specific location; an address in a city, in a state, in a country… No.

Home isn’t a location. It isn’t any WHERE you can be. It’s who.

I found my way home to me through another. I didn’t know what I was looking for. I had no idea I was looking.

Finding my way has been a journey. There’s been cliffs, reversals, mountains, and valleys. Home is simple, real, complete. It’s a wonderful thing.

Are there words to describe the feeling I have inside? Happiness just isn’t enough. Peace? Not enough. Love, honor, excitement, calm, fun, fierceness, power? Not enough. It’s all of these and so much more.

It’s coming home after a long journey. It’s seeing the port after sailing in a storm, the lighthouse in the distance. It’s arriving. It’s finding the rest of me, the missing piece.

It’s new, I have no idea what it is. I like it though. The future excites me. I finally have a place in this world.

I’ve finally come home.

Thank you for reading,

me