It’s nearing the end of my time here. A time I thought would never come, but the Santas and stockings in the supermarket seem to say otherwise. What’s really weird is I feel little sense of belonging to one unique spot anymore. Ya know, what some people might call a home.
What is home?
Home is my lake and it’s dynamic blues. Home is the prick from dune grass running towards the gazebo to watch a Michigan sunset.
It’s the sound of loons while looking up at miles of stars in the Boundary Waters.
It’s the beautiful hibiscus after a night swim in Puerto Vallarta.
And home lives across the world in New Zealand.
It’s the greatest pieces of my humanity in a basket, full of the bits and bobs of what has denfined and continues to define my blip in this universe.
And bish, I can hike, sing, dance, paint, party, and remain as studious as ever.
I know now that curiousity didn’t kill any cats without first letting them live a little.
Love ain’t easy, but I think now more than ever I know there are some good candidates out there 😉
So hell yeah, this place has become a home, and I know when goodbyes do come they’re temporary. Hehe
I never knew I needed a friend like you till your stoopid ass came knocking on my door. Love you lots my dude
There are beach days and night outs ahead.<
here’s a wonderful family to go and celebrate CHRISTMAS with
And there’s a career somewhere in biological anthropology for me.