You’ll know I’ve fallen for you when I want to show you my secret places. When I want to share the most precious spaces of the earth with you. When I want to bring you into where I’ve called home, where I’ve felt safe.
The only good thing about remembering who you really are is that you get to choose what you can take back with you and what you can leave behind. You get to decide which parts are worth fighting for and which parts need to go.
OK, I admit it: I bought a house because of a psychic.
I failed as a father. My 17 year old is going to visit some colleges today.
It’s called wanderlust. But it should be a word with much more impact. Travel bug sounds harmless. It is more like a compulsive want of the brain, some hard wiring that can never be untangled, something that pulls you from within.
I’m terrified that if our paths cross again – like I’m ever so hopefully they will – that the same spark and the same feeling won’t be there. And if I’m being honest, I don’t know what I’d do if the one person that felt like home became just a hallow soul that I no longer knew.
Then it hits you that you’re never going to feel completely whole again because you’ll always be leaving pieces of your heart with people from all over the world and you finally feel okay with that.
You are back home, but that doesn’t mean that you are the same person as when you left. So you may as well take it as a chance to create a new beginning.
Blank walls are promising, but they can also be intimidating, especially if you’re a college student on a budget or just can’t spend hundreds of dollars at a furniture store.
You start seeing home with new appreciative eyes. The things you took for granted now mean so much more to you and you start seeing the immense value in the little things.