Home is a base, a starting point, a fixture to which I latch a tether, however temporarily. Like a climber reaching for the next anchor point, I’m always searching for somewhere new to fasten a hold.
No matter how many books read, how many websites visited, how many personal accounts accumulated, when it comes down to make the actual move, my arms remain outstretched in a darkened room.
A New Journey: A little chaos can be exhilarating, to be sure, but living without any parameters, well, that’s frankly terrifying.
Chapter II: I chose Philadelphia for my second year specifically so I could push myself, test my mettle. In that sense, it fulfilled every expectation.
Chapter I: Loss is a fundamental part of traveling; people rarely tell you that.
If you stay put, you might have a happy life, you may avoid hardships. Your life very well may avoid all the road blocks and problems that come with relocation. But if you never move, you will remain an incomplete person.
It's something to accept - when I'm broke, when I'm sick, when I'm uncertain how far away from normalcy my next detour will take me - that every path leads to regrets, if I allow it to. I don't know how this one is going to turn out.
My home is where I rest my head at any given time, my home is any stop along I-70 or any town where a friend will share a drink with me. My home is the United States.