Elements

The wind is howling tonight, and I have been thinking: you can never go home. I am reading a story about a little girl who is learning about life and how hard it is through radical socialist parents in the 30s. I realized that even at that young age we are looking for home. I remember feeling I was always out of place, that I never fit in, even in my family. My shoes were either too big or too small.

And, I can never go home.

Home is a memory, ancient and ageless, one that I was born with, one that I ache with even now. Home is a beating heart inside someone else, home is a ethereal place that cannot be reached on this plane. Why do I ache for it when the wind blows? Is it because the wind is a constant reminder of my wandering heart? Because I am blown this way and that? I have an anchor, but my rope is probably too long and I feel I am getting lost at sea. Home is being known, and resting in love there. Home is knowing just as deeply and trusting and being trusted. Home is a solid place for your heart to be grounded. Home is the hope that keeps me aloft. My constant hope and desire for a home keeps me changing, and asking to be changed. Home is safety and rest. Home is challenge and shelter. Home is the place where you are reminded why you live and breath. Home is where you gain your strength, home is peace.