With all traveling adventures there is the final leg, the trip home. From the air I surveyed the red rock country's deep canyons and snowcapped mountains. We followed the winding course of the Snake river before turning east. We crossed the great, flat plains that are the center, some say the heart of the country. Pressed out by the immense weight of ancient glaciers their soil is among the richest in the world. Much of what feeds the U.S. comes from the farms and fields that passed beneath me.
I continue to Chicago and home, that small warm place I have carved out for myself within my cities muscular street grid. That place where I can shut the door and feel safe. Where I can rest when I grow weary of the chaos of live.
My apartment overlooks the neighborhoods on the west side of the city. There I can look across them and be happy that I am a part of them and also be thankful that I have a place where I can find respite when it all just seems too much. I yearn for travel because it broadens my soul, I yearn for home because it restores it.