…and the end of all our exploring will be to arrive where we started and know the place for the first time.
Travel is a beautiful part of living. To be foreign, to see the superficial differences that separate us, to realize the very deep similarities that mean we are all so very much the same. To have the privilege of stepping out of your birthplace, out of your routine…it’s a big amount of fun.
Sometimes, we feel a little pang when it’s time to return to the place where our possessions dwell. We walk into our front door, we sigh, our keys hit the table, our bags hit the floor, and more often than not we take a moment to return. Simple things like unpacking our toiletries and looking at the empty shelves of the refrigerator consume us. On occasion I take a shower and go to bed without even brushing my teeth.
A good walk down familiar streets, past friendly dogs, neighbors, and blooming plants is one of my favorite ways to return. My darling friend and her daughters took me for a walk in my hometown, recently. The neighborhood coffee shop was bright and cheerful. Every plant was leafing, blooming, fruiting. So much the same – I began to feel the ways in which I am different, changed. I could feel myself.
It is a strange thing to come home.
To come home to ourselves can be a bit of a slow process. I’m a little closer every time I return.
Whether you are returning to your home after an absence, or have just been at work for too many hours of the day – have a walk. Feel the sunshine, smell the flowers, pet the dogs, get a really good cup of something that you love to drink. Give yourself a little time to return to the home that’s in your heart.