The gaps in this little journal, the journal which was meant to capture each moment regardless of how prone they are to flight, seem to be during periods of my life where I lose some trajectory.  I think about all I have accomplished in these last few years; becoming a homeowner twice, getting a new job, a promotion, yoga certification, adopting two dogs, traveling all over the world.  It's substantial.  Yet my pen doesn't take to paper, and my heart seems to have had no home.  The trajectory of where I want my life to go and what I want to become, has stalled yet again.  And it leaves me wondering, why do I continue to lose sight of that?

Someone once asked me, what is your greatest insecurity?  I have many, but without hesitation, my answer was "I have no home".  There is a constant dull ache in my bones, one that has a hint of nostalgia and homesickness.  I don't know what it's for, I just know that I've been missing and yearning for something.  When I look back on the places where I've lived and called home, I try to reconcile if these feelings are for moments in those places.   It doesn't seem to match, and I'm realizing that it is actually for feelings that those places are meant to represent.  Unconditional love, safety, stability, rest, and freedom.  This is what I am in constant search of, not big decisions which could define who I am, but small moments that could bring me closer to where I want to be.  Home.

Maybe the closest I've come, has been right here all along.  Pen to paper. My heart beating to the sounds of my fingers tapping on the keyboard.  Maybe this is who I'm meant to be, words on a screen.  I'm still learning, but I refuse to fall off trajectory again.  I'm home again, my little journal.  I will try to stay put for at least a little while this time.