On my own. It has a nice ring to it. I have been ‘on my own’ mentally since I was a child. Incidentally, I have yet to “grow up” so for the sake of moving on let’s just say it was a long while back.
California, Oregon, Washington, Idaho, South Carolina, Alaska. These are the states in which I have lived and roamed. Of all these, Oregon has become the state that has seen the bulk of my residence. It’s the closest thing I have had to a home. Then again.. what defines a home? Where the heart is? If this is true, then I can honestly say I have always been at home. This area of the planet, with it’s familiarity of known haunts and shared similarities, are everything I have ever needed to feel safe. Stick me in the deserts of the Sahara and I will most assuredly become disoriented, home sick, and unsafe. But, here amongst the green trees, the grass and creeping moss, I know there is the quiet peace of an old friend.
‘Home’, it is a state of mind. It is where you feel at ease from the little pressures and can comfortably acknowledge the greater stress of life. At home we are free to be ourselves, and that is where the heart is.