I’ve stood coast to coast, listening to whistling, winding songs of the ocean waves.

I’ve lost myself in the sound and stories across the American highway.

Growth is not linear. A new place doesn’t make a new person. You take your baggage. You take all of the miserable excuses. You take time.

I’m not a sojourner. I’m not a traveler. I’m not some whimsical man.

Though, I would be lying if I said I didn’t enjoy it all. Enjoying it through the gritted teeth of resentment.

Reality is what you make of it. The when and where can matter, but it’s not all there is.

Sometimes we just need the roots to settle.
Sometimes we just need to let life bloom.

So I’ll take a drink, praise the sun, and live.

In my grandparent’s house
There are stacks of
National Geographic magazines.
Next to the couch,
In the bathroom,
So that
From the porcelain throne,
You can travel the wide world,
Stepping into the shoes
Of some great explorer
In the time it takes you
To ****.