When I get towards the end of the loch I feel my feet starting to slow. It’s not just that I’m tired, feet blistered at the end of the day. No, it’s the knowledge that when I get to the end of the loch I’m at the end of the walk and the end of the day.
Must turn back eastward: home.
Till I stop and think: no.
This is home. This is where I belong. This is where my heart needs to be, and where my spirit flies.
I’ll leave part of myself here. (I always have done – maybe that’s why I feel lost when I’m gone.) I’ll go back to work and pack and plan and get ready. It’s a three month period of work.
But before you know it I’ll be back. Where I should be. Home.
