Give and Take and Give Again

The sign was white with blue lettering, and had a dove with an olive branch flying away on the lower left hand corner. “War is not the Answer,” it proclaimed, hanging on the side of the porch railing, inconspicuous behind a small tree in the postage stamp row house yard.

Inside are old friends, and some new ones, which I hope will become old friends one day. Outside is the car, filled with clothes, knickknacks, books and other items that seem to depreciate in their value every time I move. Walking up the steps I think back to the previous month and a half, the journey from there to here is only a forty minute walk, but it seems worlds away. So does my brief jaunt to West Virginia and the countless clackity miles on the MARC reading and dozing. The constant weight of my backpack felt like stones, weighing me down and holding me back, tying me to a life no longer mine.

I have shed the backpack and the old attitudes, the laborious commute and loneliness of being in transit. I have been reborn into something new. The May greenery is lush with possibility and the gentle impression sandals make on the grass seem to tell me life is give and take, and give again. I am sure many challenges await but as walk in the door smiles and hugs remind me that I have arrived at life’s most paradoxical freedom: home.