What does it mean to come home?
You see the idea put forth in popular films, television, and writing. Coming home. The attraction to a place and the people that pulls you back, no matter how far you go away from home.
I recently traveled to the Adirondack mountains- it’s essentially a yearly tradition. We don’t camp per se, but we do rough it a bit. Adirondack living can be a little rustic, a little less on the daily showering, a little more on the snacking or drinking, and definitely more on the time walking, hiking, or swimming.
When you’re away from home, what do you find yourself doing? Are you taking in the scenery or embedding yourself in the local culture? Are you going into slug mode (as a friend of mine calls his summer break from school) or taking time to be active outside of your routine?
Of course, I find a tipping point in being away. That moment between “I love the difference between here and home” and “I miss the life in which I am so comfortable.” I admire frequent travelers- the ability to pick up and go. The ability to be more carefree. I find my mind looking back too often. Wondering what is being missed at home.
