The Way Home

The anticipation of home. Almost there.

Painted skies light the way as the rosary sways from side to side.

The desert stretches beside me, its sands moving like an ocean. A reflection of what once was crosses my view.

Before the endless red lights, before that first breath of release, I imagine walking this land.

I can almost hear the leather of a saddle, hear the loudness of the silence, remembering a place I have been before.

I know when I see it.

My chest loosens. I take a long, deep breath.

I am home before I ever reach the door, before the wheels stop turning.

This is The Way Home