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There's a fantastic tune by singer/songwriter Kim Richey that I was reminded of today. It's “A Place Called Home” from her album Rise — one of my all-time favorites — and it's particularly astute in both its meaning and timing.

Well, it's not hard to see
Anyone who looks at me
Knows I am just a rolling stone
Never landing anyplace to call my own
To call my own

Well, it seems like so long ago
But it really ain't you know
I started out a crazy kid
Miracle I made it through the things I did
The things I did

Someday I'll go where there ain't no rain or snow
‘Til then, I travel alone
And I make my bed with the stars above my head
And dream of a place called home

I had a chance to settle down
Get a job and live in town
Work in some old factory
I never liked the foreman standing over me
Over me

Oh I’d rather walk a winding road
Rather know the things I know
See the world with my own eyes
No regrets, no looking back, no goodbyes
No goodbyes

As I ready the motorhome to take to the road in search of … I'm not even sure what … I'm thinking a lot about my past, present, and future. And I'm finding that rare are the moments I can remember when I've truly felt at home anywhere, truly felt peace, joy, community, or stability. Maybe those things are illusions we are conditioned to believe in by various cultural influences, but I know I've caught glimpses of them, sensed their presence nearby, maybe even stepped into or through them for a split second or two. And so I hold fast to those fleeting recollections as my signposts. Rather than chase these delights down, though, I'm aiming to simply set the stage in such a way that they might find their way back to me, just like this song did today.

The night before my 40th birthday in 2009, I made a “F#@k It List” for myself of things I used to enjoy doing but, for whatever reason, tossed aside and things I always wanted to do but, for whatever reason, never had. The entries included getting a tattoo, learning to sail, going on hikes, saying “I love you” more to those that I do indeed care about, and things like that. I recently remembered my deep fondness for the inherently meditative nature of jigsaw puzzles and the universe reinforced the notion when I nearly stepped on a random puzzle piece on the street as I got out of my car a few days ago. These are the sorts of things — and their related evocations in me — that I hope to reconnect to on this journey. They are the things I fully believe can bring me "home." 

And that will be my singular heading because, by not having a destination, per se, I can't not arrive, right? Besides, the horizon is full of Further.

Kelly McCartney

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Kelly McCartney |

Having won prestigious literary competitions in both grade school and junior high, I attended college with a Scripps Howard Foundation scholarship, earned a BA in Journalism, and interned at Entertainment


Things I share: I seek. I write. I think. I roam. I listen. I care. I wonder. I help. I flirt. I try. I dream. I grow.

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