UT

Nothing has changed.

I could rehash the same lines as always: the drawl in people's smiles, the pride on the radio, the smell of dryer sheets and the way the highway curves in your spine and leaps out of a mountain pass into the blossoming valley. How the sun makes unaccustomed eyes squint but how they do it gladly after so many months of darkness. I stretch my arms into the light, and the veins look like bruises underneath my pale winter skin. Their political witch hunts and ignorant patriotism hurts my very body, the nation crumbles, but no matter.

This was the land we reached in search of Adventure. This was the frontier that glittered of American Dreams and Promise. Here is the country that encouraged us to grow outside our molds, that took us in and refused to let us go.

I could rehash the same lines of how harrowed lungs breathe deeper in wide spaces, but what is the use?

The point
of Home
is recognition.