The thing about home is that
it’s transitory. It changes as you change. But that
doesn’t mean you forget about the homes you had before.
That doesn’t mean those past places and people leave your
heart. The beautiful thing about making homes where you wander
is that you’ll forever find places to call yours. You
will grow wherever you’re planted. You’ll never be
a wandering body, a lost soul without a place to feel grounded.
You’ll always have the hundreds of past dots on a map
that you’ve been, the connections you’ve built, the
people who have made you feel loved. You’ll always have
those homes. And you’ll make new homes. A home is
wherever you make it, wherever you go, wherever you decide to
lay your burdens, your dreams, your wandering thoughts. A home
is where you find pieces of yourself, pieces you didn’t
even realize were lost. And you discover yourself, again and
again and again.
