Finding home

There is something about cold, cold mornings…where the air is snap crisp, and each breath is felt. Granted, where I live, we do not know real cold..6 C (42 F) to 24 C (75 F) days..and those 6 C mornings are rare.

On these cold mornings, you know that the horizon will be cloudless, as will the day. These are our winter days. Sun on sun…bright blue sky. How blessed am I to live here?

Each of us seeks to find our spiritual and soul home. The place where our cells hum. There is a rightness to place that is felt in our marrow…in our heart…I am home.

I find beauty in mountains, and plains…yet the call…the call of home…is always the ocean.

While any place can become a home, finding our place and home satisfies a longing. The gypsies of the world might be nourished from other directions…changing landscapes…dandelion seeds on the wind.

Most of us, though, want to grow roots.

To stand in the water, sand between my toes…my roots grow. My soul is nourished. I am home.