the sun sets over a landscape that echoes, familiar enough that you feel comfortable being lost in it. thinking you could see yourself here for a long time if the sky stayed this color.
but the sky never stays that color. that’s something that changes. and maybe that’s it.
home for you was always a place of transit, something always temporary. it was the movement of things that helped you feel at home.
you remember car rides as a kid with your family, seat belt fastened, going somewhere far away, singing songs others on the highway probably wouldn’t understand, moving.
you remember meeting people who would later become your friends, talking about things you never really shared with others before. conversations that would always end at some point even if you continued them later. always some sort of progress in your friendship.
you don’t really know where home is. i don’t know if you ever have. you just know that you’ve felt it in different places and sometimes not at all. you always wondered what home meant.
these days you figure if you can see the sun set somewhere, remember the people you love, and fall asleep on a small piece of earth that welcomes you, you’re home.