Home is in a lot of places

In a the bottom of a coffee cup, inhaling and looking up to see your friends beautiful smile because you made a funny face.

In a national park breathing the crisp air, the utter contentment of being in a place that is only yourself and the earth, with a thousand days before and after you.

Dancing in the waves, the ocean so a part of your life that your very veins are made of seawater and your eyes are strands of seaweed. there is something beautiful in its wildness, how it just doesn’t care who graces its shores but exists.

Home is the smell of vintage books and you wonder where they have been before you, as you grab a soft blanket and get lost in another world. How far have you travelled between the pages?

The beat of a song, getting swept up in the lyrics, screaming out loud with joy. Feeling a part of something, something crazy about being in sync with a huge crowd of strangers, for that just moment become united. Nothing else matters except the present.

Home is in a lot of places.