Home, Sweet Home

I am what some people might call a free soul. Where ever the wind is blowing, I am usually going that way. I spend a lot of my life living out of a suitcase. I have been renting a place now for over a year, and that is longest I have stayed in one spot for quite some time. Which doesn't neccassarily mean I go home often. 

A little over three weeks ago I packed up my trusty suitcase. And I am excited to say I will be returning home tomorrow morning. I always enjoy returning home after being gone. Whether it has been a day, a week, or a month. Of course the longer I am gone, the better my return; And the more stuff I come home with! It never fails me, that when I return home from an adventure, I have some kind of knew treasure in hand. One might begin to think there isn't room for walking in my small, one bedroom apartment.

I am looking forward to opening my front door and taking that first, deep breath in. And smelling that familiar smell of home, sweet home after being gone for just a little too long this time. I often find myself thinking I should  stay home more often. Not pack up my suitcase anymore. But then after a few weeks at home I get a smell of that wind blowing again. . .

"I had the blues because I had no shoes, until upon the street I met a man who had no feet."

-Harold Abbott