The Harbor of My Journeying Soul

When I was young, my father used to work at the local beach making sure the campgrounds were in top conditions for the tourists. On one of those occasions, my father found a book on the sand, forgotten by its owner. The book was called Tigana, by Guy Gavriel Kay.

“I think you will enjoy this better than I”, he said over dinner, giving me the book to read latter. He was right. I devoured the novel like a parched human being at the desert. Tigana is the story of a country that disappeared from the face of the continent when its habitants resisted the conqueror coming from foreign lands. But a group of courageous men and women embarked on a journey to bring back the country that was lost to them by dark magic. For the outside world, Tigana might have been lost, but as long as the name of their childhood shone bright in their hearts, it was home, and it was alive.

As long as the name shone bright in their hearts… did the name of my home shine bright in me?

Where I live is completely different from where I grew up for most of my life. Some people call it the Caribbean. I call it The Land of Eternal Summer. All year-round warm days, optimal for gardening. Pristine beaches, rice and beans, coffee as hot as the sun and dark as the night. When I moved to the land of the four seasons, people asked me why I abandoned the paradise they vacationed in every year and traded it for snow, gray days and ice on the ground. “Because I needed a change of scenery. You know, start over”, I answered. Granted, the coffee in this place tasted different, and the beach was miles away from my apartment. However, thinking about it, why did I trade eternal summer for four seasons?

Because paradise did not feel like home anymore.

It is said that home is where the heart is, and for some time, my heart was not in paradise. I did not know at that point if I had outgrown it or home rejected me. Not that I felt like Belle from Beauty and the Beast, tired of a provincial life. I loved swimming in the ocean. I liked the balmy nights in December. I could get in my car and drive to the mountains if I wanted to have a cooler day. The food was delicious. My family and friends were near if I wanted to visit them. But it did not feel right. Something was missing and I had no idea what it was.

Two years ago, I quit my government job and flew up north with just one backpack and nothing else in my name. The bus took me from the airport to the middle of Coal County. Fall was beginning to paint the leaves on the trees. The breeze was a lot cooler than the mountains at home. The language was different. I saw big cities and small towns on my way to my destination. From time to time, the bus would stop for the passengers to take a bathroom break and maybe eat a snack. I met different folks that day. I did not think much of the place I would be living for the next year… until I saw the river.

On the last leg of the journey, the river came to view. It wasn’t a stream. It was the kind of river you could easily sail a boat on or row to your heart’s content. To the north, the river stretched for miles to see. To the south, there was a dam controlling the currents. There were egrets and gulls flying over the outlets. In the distance, there were little islands covered with grass and trees. It looked so majestic and grand! I wondered if I could swim in it. Probably not, but I would have to ask the locals. A body of water, similar to the ocean I left behind, but with other colors, a palette of greens and far-off metal, just flowing calmly on a fall afternoon.

The river spoke to me. I might have left the Caribbean, but here, I was welcome. There was something about the way the river snaked around the terrain that invited me to explore its stories. Here, I felt loved and secured. I felt something I have forgotten with the winds of time. The river called to me and I knew I had come to the home I thought I had lost but did not know it was only waiting for me. “You are the harbor of my soul’s journeying”, a quote I read in Tigana and it has stayed with me till this day. I did not understand the meaning behind it until then. The river was the path I had not known I was meant to walk to find the truth. Paradise was not home anymore, but just because it wasn’t, it did not mean I was homeless.

Home was the place that I belong.