On Saturday I was driving home from Cleveland and saw something I normally don't see: the sunset... in my review mirror.
I've always dreamt of just going, following the sun as it sets. I started this summer as a rafting guide on the intrepid white water of Colorado. With a backpack, duffel bag, bike, and greyhound ticket in hand, I headed West to new terrain and new adventures. But for some reasons that were clear, and for others that I have yet to understand, I found myself going East, going home.
Home. Family. Friends. Rolling green hills with an early morning mist that fills the valley, hovers above the water, and, when the golden sun shines through, looks like a painting of heaven's gates. There is a season for everything; sometimes it is boundless exploration. Sometimes plans change. Sometimes, it is home.
