Suitcase Memories, Front door Journeys

I like to settle. I like to make a home of every small space I get to call mine. We paste fading passport size photographs of people we love. We pin our favorite quotes on the wall. I’d plant a garden, if I had a little more space.I like to settle because it almost always feels like home. And home is the kind of unruly laughter that shakes all of your insides. The place where we can take off our socks and roll them up in tiny basket balls and make nets through imaginary whoops. Home is free food and a harbor of unending tales.When we find and make homes of people and of places, we build walls and create our own language and territories that feel safe.But territories are not always safe and walls break too. What do we do when our comfort zones are not so comfortable anymore? What do we do when there’s a hitch in our speaking codes and misunderstandings hang on the walls like antique paintings?Do we leave or stay?Leaving does not always have to mean walking away. Leaving is when we pack up our suitcases with memories and stories and the hope of coming back. Walking away is when we don’t pack at all. It’s when we look at all that we've built and still find no reason to stay.Somewhere between the two, is the choice to stay, nonetheless.Those who stay are strong.Those who leave are strong.Because it takes courage to leave what we love and courage to seek what we love.And because home is a lot less about wall hangings and a little more about where the heart is.