Roman vagabond.

Tomorrow I begin yet another journey.

At times, wanderlust can be all-consuming. But there are voices calling me to stay, and the lump in my throat is weighing me down.

There is a beauty in a family being strewn across a country. Across a world. But there is a strain when the hands you hold are so far apart. Then there is a choice of where to break.

This just came back to me from one of my very favorite books, Extremely Loud and Incredible Close. It's my heart's whisper at the moment ...

we need much bigger pockets, i thought as i lay in bed ... we need enormous pockets, pockets big enough for our families, and our friends, and even the people who aren't on our lists, people we've never met but still want to protect. we need pockets for boroughs and for cities, a pocket that could hold the whole universe.

Can someone just invent one of those, please?

This is all very dramatic. Too dramatic for my taste.

So I'm off to Omaha, Salt Lake City, Seattle, San Diego, San Francisco, and all the streets, highways, and smiles between. The symphony of the universe keeps unveiling itself to me, twisting and dancing in the melodies it paints. It leaves me in wonder and awe, drawing me in.

That's why I love.
It's what I love, how I love.

It is Love.

Road, play me a song.
Adventure, sing me a sonnet.
Life .. dance with me.

k.