I haven’t had words

The past years have been rough.

Abandoned for with no sensible explanation by my former partner. A child I helped raise removed from my life for no reason save for the bitterness of venom. And the few times I was moved to write my true emotions was met with a conceited letter from a lawyer.

I imagine myself forgiven for departing that malignancy.

I took myself to a place more wild and free. Mountains and beaches and forest. Love and kindness and peace. And Beauty.

I have pictures of the places I’ve seen and touched. Photos of food. Landscapes and animals. Learned a new language and new skills and recipes.

And I’ve discovered countless friends – old and new – and the warmth of love of all sorts. I’ve been here long enough to have mundane, welcoming experiences in this new-to-me land as well as unexpected breath-stealing, adrenaline-jolting adventures. I’ve found catharsis at the rim of a volcano. I’ve leaned against gorgeous graffiti in an abandoned edifice at the top of a mountain while exchanging looks with a wild monkey. I’ve felt the cold rain on my face as I floated in a natural hot spring. The salt spray has locked my hair wind-swept as I gazed at paradise.

I feel far from the sickness of my home, and it feels less and less like home each day.

So then it becomes all the more difficult to determine what home is. That is the part of my heart in transition at the moment, and it’s an exciting adventure in itself.