Thoughts of Home

Some days I find myself sitting atop a mighty mountain, admiring the sloping valleys and steep, rocky cliffs. I imagine being that regal tree, standing just at the crest of that cliff in the distance. How many animals has it blessed with shade from the midday sun, and how many more call it’s thick bark and abundant branches home? I dream about being that noble peregrine falcon I saw soaring overhead as I ascended that summit of my temporary roost, limited only by the strength of my wings and the skies to carry me. I wonder if those coyotes I heard calling outside my tent after my fire cooled into coals have found food, or if they go hungry another day. I ponder of the violent eruptions hundreds of mega-annum ago that formed the environment around me.

Hours will often pass, as I think about the history of the world unfolding before my eyes; memories of past adventures and people I’ve met that lead me to find my body atop this mountain as my soul dances among the clouds above. Curious where the path will lead me next, I fantasize about the magnificent baobab trees of Madagascar, the solitary obelisk that is Devil’s Tower of Wyoming, the rich, dense forests of Chongqing, and the epochal falls of the Iguazu all of which have inspired songs to be sung across the globe and galleries to be erected in reverence.

Our beautiful planet has such a story to share, lessons to teach, and dreams to enliven those willing to seek them out; and yet some days, as I sit top my perch, I long for where I once called home. I miss the river I swam in and and the bridges that sparked my creativity. I miss the family that raised me and the familiar scent of lasagna and tamales diffusing from the kitchen.

Some days, it’s just good to be home.

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