Would You Like to Stay?

I miss the road to Utah

And sitting by the sea.

Simple green grass

And rotisserie.

I miss the gravel paths

And singing til I laugh.

Grapefruit highs

And family goodbyes.

An open road is where free-spirits live. Didn't you know that? An open road to Utah in a car with 6 people, 2 dogs, and a rabbit is where free-spirits go to die. At least that's how it felt driving the stretch of an endless highway with my knees pressed against a bunny cage. I guess it's rich to assume I myself am a free-spirit. But, somehow that road where they die is also where I found freedom. That road sees nameless towns of population zero, but also mountains whose peaks touch the clouds. That road passes abandoned buildings, but also impossibly blue skies. Outside of the chattering of a family of 6 and the smell of cooped up dogs flashed a world of adventure & life. A road to Utah is where I discovered that my home could never be static. Stay awhile. This is home, echoed everywhere.

And sitting by the sea.

Now, the sea is oh so different from the highways of the Mid-West. But in a home built of weaving roads, the waves of salty foam kiss the mountain ranges of my mind. If ever too long the snowy peaks dare me to explore, then lapping waves ask me to rest. If ever I am lost in a fathomless blue sky, the sharp sea-spray wakes me then. If the open road is my home, it all too often leads to the sea for comfort, and to the shore for guidance. After all, shouldn't home lead us to peace and safety?

Sometimes the road home leads to a soft blanket on rough grass, and an escape to a world between pages. It leads to a meal of chicken and rice at a picnic set for six. I have found home in hearty meals and dining with people who somehow manage to distract me from the plate in front of me.

Other times, a road is not driven on. I find my home on paths muddied by a recent shower and dotted with gravel rocks. I am reminded of why this is home as my feet feel the earth. Home is where I grow. And how could growth ever happen in 1 single place?

Has anyone truly enjoyed the hot desert during the endless summer? Is it possible that I miss the beating sun on the Arizona land? All roads lead to a rest stop. And while the sea holds a promising allure, the desert hears the singing of my grandpa and the loving words of my nana. When the desert calls me home, how could I not stay for a beautiful while.

Sometimes, I find home in places I've never been and in places often overlooked. When you travel the open road you learn to find the beauty in every corner. Even behind the tennis courts near my old high school, home lingered. It welcomed me as family's laughter rang through my ears, and grapefruit juice fell from my hands to the hot pavement.

When home is everywhere and only a road away, a goodbye awaits. A goodbye that never lasts, because it's only until next time. But I'll take an excuse to hug in farewell, for if ever a place were my home-base it would be in an embrace.