A Long Time Away from Home

As I sit here and write, the fan blowing softly in my window and my bed lamp dimly shining on the keys, I remember all the things I have done the past two months. I remember living in Seattle for three weeks visiting my sister and her family, seeing just a glimpse into her life and watching the kids as they seemed to grow in front of me. Each time I saw the kid’s smile I shoved it deep down, close to my heart to remember always. (Man I love them.) Remembering the ever growing list of adventures my sister and I would go on, with the kids in tow or not, there was always a story to bring home to whoever was there to listen. Meeting new friends, going to church, climbing mountains, swimming in unforeseen places, all of which added to the collection of memories I have locked away in my mind. It is always so amazing to be with family, to love one another in every possible way, even in the most annoying of times. I know I’ll always have a place to stay there.

My favorite kids ever.

                                                                              

Then I flew back home, for only a few hours, where I then boarded a plane once again to meet my eldest brother in Central America. We discovered when I landed, that this was only our first time traveling together which completely surprised both of us given the amount of traveling we have done. I met him in Belize where we began our journey with an interesting cab ride to the “bus station.” Everything else is history. We traveled south, day after day, bus ride by bus ride, stopping in each country finding something amazing to do or interesting to eat.  All we had was each other, our back-packs, and our increasing list of stories… all the way down to Panama. Panama made it into my passport as my tenth country. We celebrated with an ice-cold Coca-Cola from a bottle (absolutely the best when from a bottle.) We climbed temples like a Mayan King, slept in a tent in the very heart of the rain forest, (no sleep to be had on that specific night…too many crazy animal noises.) We surfed the waves of the Pacific, and watched as a Sea Turtle so delicately laid her eggs on the beaches of the Atlantic, zip-lined through the canopy of a cloud forest, we ate like champions while watching HUGE cargo ships travel through the lock system in the Panama Canal, and of course took the longest, most interesting rides from place to place on whatever we could (even if that meant hitchhiking a time or two…shhh don’t tell my mom.) After all was said and done we flew home. Home to meet our mother with open arms, home to eat some good ol’ American food, and home to where I know I belong.

 I know I’ll always be traveling, and to only God knows where, but within me, and I imagine every traveler, there is always that one place where everything falls into place. That one spot where you feel at your utmost comfort. The place where you’ll find your heart again deep within the crannies of the walls and hiding out between the covers of your own comfortable bed (oh how I missed my own bed.) You know that old saying “Home is where the heart is?” … well I think it’s true. In every heart there is a home and I find mine every time I walk into mine, filled with the laughter of family and friends and the smell of homemade food on the table. No matter where I go, who I meet or how I get there, this is where I’ll find my heart, fully and happily living.