I checked my compass and found it addled, my east gone west. I wondered when it happened, wonder when it no longer mattered.
There had become here, there was no where else to be found, and inside I always knew the path I had to hold – the way back home. I didn’t need to needle’s spin to turn my heart.
Of course, in any journey there is a time of turning, the point when you bend back, when the sun shines on at a different angle and everything shifts again to the new old ways. Suddenly you find yourself looking back to what once was forward. Here I am looking back.
I have found so much to treasure that I could not turn without a smile.
Each day has been a world of its own and it is only when I stand still that I see how far I have walked, how many dreams have dusted my feet with memories.
For months I have gone south but home called me north, back up through Peru.
I took the route along the coast so that I could pretend this was just another new country, another episode in the adventure. It wasn’t hard.
There seems to be a world’s worth of wonders here – the dip of the deepest canyon, the Andes’ height, the inexplicable expanses of sand on sand that seduce the eye with sunset curves. Beauty is an always new lover, every day different, impossible to leave.
But still I knew that I had turned, was turning, that I was heading home.
In Lima I was back in the same house again, waiting with the family that first made me welcome here. I waited to feel that shift inside, the pole tug’s tightening.
I was tired. I missed you. I waited for that to be enough to quench my thirst for more of this, for more tomorrows, more sunsets, sunrises, somethings unexpected. It did not. I did not feel done. There was no sense of the promise being released.
I felt in a fog. I huffed and puffed and fretted and fussed for all I should be feeling. I asked advice and did not listen. I researched options but did not really read. And then with more heart than thought, I chose another impossible, another chapter to be done before the turn takes me.
Less than 24 hours before I was due to fly I changed my flight. It felt perfect, utter glorious insanity.
And so I still have far to go – the 8,000 km I decided I would do overland, in all the enthusiasm of this moment of madness. I am exhausted at the very thought and yet I am silly leaping happy, bubbling, clouds cleared.
I will turn. I will go back. But not just yet.