"I've turned the corner and I am heading home."
That's what I told my friend last week. This was a case where I didn't full know just how far I was from home until I started coming back. It's been a year of sorting through my thoughts and feelings about home. What does it mean? Where is home? What makes it home?
In August, I signed the papers finalizing the sale of my childhood home. I thought I would feel more lost. Instead, this has released me to redefine home and to understand where I belong. As this year began with the question, where is the soul, it is ending with, I have found my way home.
I cannot trace back to the moment that the questions left me. Was it before or after my mother's death? Regardless of when, without my navigational tool of questions, I lost my way. I might not have looked lost as I am very practiced in keeping up appearances even if I am merely doing so for myself.
I told someone else recently that I feel like I have been in a fallow season. However, when I look back over these past months, there is evidence to the contrary. I wrote and illustrated excavated poems. I have been busy creating community. I redefined and launched the website.
All of that was my wandering, lost in full sight. I was marking my path, planting my signposts. I didn't even really know that is what I was doing. Instinctively, I was making my way home and I was making sure that I wouldn't remain lost, that I wouldn't needlessly circle back to the same places over and over.
On any return trip, there is that moment of recognition. Suddenly, you are not straining to find the familiar because you are surrounded by all that you know. I have found my familiar. There questions have returned. Home is just ahead of me. Maybe it will stay just ahead of me to keep me traveling the road. That would be ok with me. I am a restless soul who loves a grand adventure. At least now, I have found my navigational tools and home is in sight.