Was a Place in the Sky

A string of sunrises and sunsets come and go, piles of sand amass in your bags. It’s hard to remember that there’s a home waiting on the other end of your ticket, that there is cold and snow and all the realities you left behind, unchanged by your absence. She writes from across an ocean and wonders if it’ll always be this hard. You stare at a palm tree and try to remember what she means. You suspect the answer is yes. The breeze is soft on your cheek, the tide recedes on schedule.

Be here now.
Everything else will wait for you, anyway.