Go Home

You have left so many times now that I have half forgotten how many goodbyes we've said. Some with slammed doors. Some with tears. Some with silent prayers and fare thee wells. But always with love, even if that love wore a different mask.

And you have come home.

But now you say you are leaving again. My heart crushes beneath the weight of your words because no matter how much I want, I know I can't make it perfect for you here. I am fighting too many wars for you to luxuriate in what keeps your peace. Perhaps it is best. Perhaps it is right. Perhaps it is time you made your last journey through this doorway toward your own. And perhaps I already hear the solemn echoes you leave behind in your empty space.

You can never go home again.

You can always go home again.

Which is true. One? The other? None? All? Where is home anyway.

Thomas Wolfe said, you can't go back home to your family, back home to your childhood ... back home to a young man's dreams of glory and of fame ... back home to places in the country, back home to the old forms and systems of things which once seemed everlasting but which are changing all the time — back home to the escapes of Time and Memory.

Your home began inside me, and even as you took your first breath separate from my own, I vowed I would always be your safe harbor. Forever and ever. Have I broken my promise? Failed you again? Or have we finally realized your safest harbor is the one you build for yourself.

Go into the world and grab hold. Break it like a wild stallion and ride it until you can go no further. Then lay your head down.

You know, none of us are ever really home - no matter the door or how many times the key turns. Not until the rhythm of our being goes still. Then, and only then, can we each go home.

Binghamton Flood of 2011

Standing beside all my friends in Binghamton, NY and her nearby townships. These are my people. And this is what Hurricane Irene left them to deal with. Love and prayers to you all.