There lies ahead of me a journey to the seeming ends of the earth. To a land I detest, sticky with sweat and heated by the steroid abusing sun of the tropics. A land of endless skies, ocean waves and insects the size of small cars.
But at the end of that road – oh, the promises to be kept. Arms opened to hold me, ears to listen, eyes to behold what is truly there. A lifetime of waiting for this moment — hoping and praying for this moment. A shiver grips my spine in anticipation and my barely disguised glee.
The bags begin to pack themselves — cameras, clothing and guitar await impatiently for the car to start and our drive to begin. The c/d’s are stacking in piles of six each, music clamoring to be heard — to in turn hear my voice as well.
I pack the few pairs of shoes I own to go with me — sandals, sneakers and a pair of flipflops into a market bag and throw make-up into a zip-lock. I look ahead and can see him walking from his door to my car. Knowing.
Knowing that I will feel those arms around me. Seeing his eyes that I have loved for a lifetime, knowing he now realizes this too. Kissing the lips I have dreamed of tasting and finding out that they are, in fact, as soft and tender as I have dreamed. Knowing that in some way, some part, I may have finally found home.