Home

The feeling of spikey bike pedals digging into my bare feet was never enough to keep me from riding. It was summertime and it always felt like Home. And there were few better feelings than shoving my sore feet into the freshly cut grass on my parent’s lawn. It was easy to call that place Home, because that is exactly what it was.

I only left because I felt like it was required. Boys need to leave Home or they never would learn what Home really is.

The feeling of a March wind through the windows of a place we called 1931 was always enough to keep me on that ratty sectional couch I took from my first Home. There were few better feelings than spending Saturday afternoons, kicked back in a pair of ripped blue jeans and a stained t-shirt, jawing with guys who could have been brothers and planning an adventure that we would never complete, but always find fun in trying to get there. It was easy to call that place Home, becuase that’s exactly what it was.

I only left because I felt like it was required. Young men need to leave College or there was never any reason to be there in the first place.

The claustrophobia associated with a third-floor, one-bedroom apartment was always enough to make me wish I had never paid attention to what was required of me. There were few more depressing feelings than having the ability to cook an entire meal in a creaky toaster oven and eat it off a paper towel. It was easy to call that place Hell, because that’s exactly what it was.

I only left because I woud’ve jumped off my third-floor balcony if I had stayed a week longer. Worker-Bees need to keep working or there was never any reason to start working in the first place.

The ideas that Boys must leave Home, young men must leave college, Worker Bees must keep working…they all still mean something, I’m sure.

The thing about life lessons is…sometimes you don’t know what the lesson is until long after you have learned it.

There are few better feelings than finding Home when you thought you had lost it forever. And there is nothing more confusing than discovering that everything you’ve been working for may be impossible if you want to stay.

What may be more confusing than that…I may not have been working for the elusive “everything that I’ve been working for.” I may have been working to find a place I can call Home again.

Ever worked so long at achieving a goal that you forgot what the goal was?