Homesick

Dropped off the Harley this morning at Pasha Hawai‘i in National City. And there were tears...again.

They weren’t tears of sadness. I like my Harley, but I don’t love it; if the ship were to sink, I don’t think I’d shed a tear. Things are only things, and I know that in both my head and my heart.

Rather, they were tears of joy. Again, not because of anything to do with the Harley at all; instead, because of what the act of putting the Harley on the boat represents.

The guy who inspected and took custody of the Harley asked me if I was going home or just going for vacation: I answered, “I’m going home...for the first time."

That’s why I cried. Every step now takes me closer to home...and I’ve been homesick (without really knowing it) for a long time.

And dear ones, you go with me; I carry you in my heart.