I just had one of those moments. They happen more and more
frequently now, but this has been the strongest of them yet. That “I can’t go home” feeling. That “how will
I ever live my life in a way that is not this?”
feeling. It is a feeling that fades so quickly, though it hits so strong and so
unexpectedly. Even now, just a few minutes out from the moment, it is merely a
vague discomfort in my soul, nothing more. I try to remember it. I try to
retain it. It is like nothing I have ever felt prior to a handful of times in
the last few weeks. How do I even begin to describe it? It’s like every
heartbeat inside me shrinks back, pumping liquid misgivings through uneasy
arteries. I don’t want to go back. I
can’t. This is where I want to be…out here…on the road…outside the gates of
where I used to know, outside of “settled down.” Surely this can’t really be ending, right? Don’t tell me I
have to leave this in eight short weeks. Don’t tell me I have to leave
everything I’ve known for all these precious months. My brothers and sisters. These
countries, these people, these sunrises and sunsets. I can’t…don’t want to. Maybe
in eight weeks I will. Not tonight.
[photo courtesy of Haley Smith]
