In Georgia we had the woods and a trail by the river, in California it was a coffee shop, a museum, a yarn store and a little spot at the beach, the places we revisit over and over, our favorites, the places and rituals that happen to make us feel at home. We go there so often we know these places inside and out, we observe the changes, feel the rhythm of the seasons and our well walked paths.
Walking these places make the difference, getting our feet on the ground, going at a child's pace, taking slow breaths, daydreaming, holding hands, sniffing the flowers, feeling the chill on our skin, basking in the warmth, crunching the leaves, hearing little thoughts and imaginations rambling gayly on as we walk. Oh these walks, they are our homes, they are what we miss when we go and what bring us delight and peace while we are settling.
I am starting to see a new path forming, new walks, things are starting to look so familiar, we are finding quiet little paths well suited for dreamers, perfect for going slow and holding hands, just right for sweet chats with a growing boy who is bursting with so many tales of school and imaginings and hopes and fears.
We are discovering home