To travel on any journey one must embrace all kinds of travel: tunnels, bridges, trains and ferries, canoes and snow shoes. How determined the pioneers must have been to portage accross waters to get to an even colder and unforgiving land. They must have seen the light at the end of their tunnels to persist. They must have seen opportunity, promise and freedom to have endured the struggles.

No one sets out on a journey without some sort of a goal or destination. Perhaps the journey is just that: the goal. My goal is to be journeying and not to remain stagnant. stuck. still. stopped. While the world continues on without me. I want to be part of the movement, the journey, the travel. I don't want to get left behind: I want to be on the road, walking with the people.

I have loved this house, and it has been a welcoming experience living here. Like finding an oasis in a desert, but our time to part is nearing and I must admit, I am not liking it one bit. And so I come to that place again of change, just when comfort becomes a seductive distraction from the journey. I humbly take up my walking stick again and catch up with the others.

Change. Oh you hard driving parent. You stern and focused driver.
Change. Oh how you keep me moving. growing. learning.
Change. Oh how you scheme and manipulate to get your way.
Change. Oh you wonderful, hateful, beautiful force.
Change. Oh how can I hide from you?


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