Is returning home the same as starting a new journey? Or is it a well-known verse on repeat?
The idea of going home has the gut-punch feel of falling backwards and the nostalgic charm of homecoming. It smells like failure and tastes like Mom’s cooking. It’s hard to tell what direction you’re going when you’re playing Chutes & Ladders; it all feels like falling eventually when you can’t see which way is up. Am I escaping from or running towards? Am I yearning for the familiar or excited for something new?
Einstein said that time is relative. Maybe this journey is happening at the same time, layered upon each other, and thus all of this is true. In a million different ways, we are all leaving and returning every time we approach a door. It’s knowledge rarely spoken and yet truer because it is lived. You may know the earth is round, but the road feels flat beneath your feet with every step you take.
Maybe that’s all that matters, in the end. Taking the next step.