rest, reflection, return, or, Can It Be That I Am Here?

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I apologize for the delay in my writing. After the loss of my camera and bike in September I was momentarily plunged into the shadow of a defeated mentality, and lost inspiration to write. I had lost the ability to share pictures with my words and thought that my words alone were probably not enough to keep your attention. This lull in my mood did not beat me, but by the time I had regained my inspiration I was out of the habit of writing and long since caught up in yet another whirlwind of adventure which I could not pull myself away from for long enough to reflect upon from the outside. But for what it's worth I would like to think back and fill in some of the larger holes I left behind so that you may connect the past to the present, and because I feel that, pictures or not, I just have some generally good stories to tell.

As many of you may already know, I have as of about 11 days ago returned 'home'. This is a conundrum for me.

You see, after 6 months of spontaneous and transient waywardness dotted with good luck, positive thinking, ingenuity, the kindness of strangers, and yes, magic, I find myself quite adapted to a life of uncertainty. I catch myself thinking as if I were still out there on the road. My bike bags and camping gear, for instance, lie within arm's reach of my bed, backpacks hang at the ready, and a basket full of small practical implements I may need away from home sits on my dresser. But I am slowly returning, mentally, socially, emotionally, to this place. I will admit that there are things I miss from my journeys (any serious commuting cyclist would take Portland over Louisville at the drop of a hat), but half way through my time in that drastically different land of the west a mood came over me that I could not escape-- a prevailing sense that for all my appreciation of the natural beauty and social climates of the west coast, I was not at home. I began to long for home and the first tastes of resolution for that longing came with the cool fiery autumn countryside of sycamore, oak, and maple as I crossed into Missouri and Illinois on the long drive eastward. Now I am here, in Louisville, Kentucky, 'home', and I am coming to remember the winter, a time of huddling together indoors, of little light, of wrapping up tightly, flocking to warmth, telling stories by fires, reflecting on seasons gone by. I have begun reflecting and as best I can I will tell you a few good stories.

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Comments

[Ruth]

Wow!
That was very emotional for me, I love the fact that you have not lost "home". As young minds wonder and grow we often forget what you have most definitely learned. Travel and adventure is great and enriching; however, home is always the place we circle back to and feel a bit safer. Thanks. p.s. pictures are not necessary when you write as well as you do.