Here I am a stranger in a strange land, I’ve never quite feeling like I'm home. Now I’m not blaming the people, it’s probably more my fault than anything else. I suppose it’s because my life feels so…temporary. I only once ever owned my own home and rental properties never really feels like your own. It’s like pitching a tent in the woods, only to pull up stakes the next day and move on. You’re there and then your gone.
Peace of mind is a valuable thing, but so to is a sense of place. Maybe I’m overthinking this, but the ocean breeze and the salty air. They call me back to a simpler place, a place where I felt more comfortable. It's like the many people that are now gone from my life that helped shape who I am. More than anything I just miss their company, thereby missing my place in this world.
Time is seldom a good thing or even a decent friend. In our youth it seems to drag on forever. But looking towards the setting sun, it often becomes just a reminder of what you have left to do. But there’s always the coast, that one constant. When I need peace, when I need comfort, I can go there and find my way home.