Motley Crue Mantra

I am homesick. There. I said it. Home. Sick. Sick for Home. Home. Home. There’s not a soul alive who can connect the dots and understand where I’m coming from right now. This ache started slower than slow. So slow I didn’t even notice it until now. Where I want to be isn’t a location on a map. Doesn’t have coordinates to guide anyone anywhere, especially me. I couldn’t explain it if I tried. I can’t, so I won’t.
After a Sunday conversation with my mother I felt the stars start to align. The universe started to right itself, because that same day someone else said “Let’s go to The Island this summer.” Kisa looked at me and smiled. That was coincidence enough. I couldn’t have dropped all other plans fast enough – even if I tried. Doesn’t matter what was on my plate, what had priority previously. All bets are off at the mention of home home home. In the case of San Diego, well, let’s just say that’s not taking up so much of my plate anymore…kinda pushed to one side…but we’re still going.

Now we have a house lined up. The dates are set, the check is set to be in the mail. I can already picture the porch. I get dibs on the hammock. A great sunset and even better glass of redred wine. Mine, all mine. Let’s have a feast of laughter. Feed me lobster on the rocks. After I’ve had my fill then, and only then, rock me to sleep by the salt salt sea. I’m ready. I’m on my way, home sweet home.