Not all who wander are lost

I am always where I am supposed to be. That may not be where I think I should be. It also may not be where you think I should be. Despite all odds, my location is always perfect. Do you know why that is? I do. It’s destiny.

Not all souls who wander are lost. The Gaelic saying applies to me. My soul is that of an eager adventurer always in search of something new to see. My eyes take in the sights as if I were a plant soaking in the dew. I prefer forest to beach, beach to city, but any place is as good as any to wander.

I drive by ransacked, abandoned dwellings and I wonder “what’s the story”? I can feel the presence of the past. Every place has its own mood. I love the smell of sun beams through windows. I love the smell of water running over smoothed rocks. My senses are easily contented.

When I was 14 or so my mother and I drove from Massachusetts to New Jersey. On the returning trip home, the map flew out the window (this was the age before GPS and cell phones). My mother panicked. To her being lost is like a death sentence. It’s a source of anxiety. To me, it’s simply a matter of refocusing on which way to go. The Earth is only so big after all. What’s the matter with getting a little side tracked. I don’t remember how I did it exactly, but I picked highways that felt right. I hadn’t traveled that route ever before, but using my stellar internal compass I navigated us home. My mother was grateful and stunned.

So where ever I may go, I am never really lost because at that exact moment I’m exactly where I need to be. 

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