Home…

Ever since my family moved to Washington State back in ’89, I completely forgot the feeling that I once again had today. Since the move many years ago I’ve lived in a lot of places and traveled way more than I imagined I ever would. I’ve always wanted to be going somewhere but couldn’t quite put my fingers on it. When I returned from my first deployment to Iraq, I felt an emptiness inside. I had nowhere to go, and no desire to do anything but find the local bar and… Well, I’ll leave those stories for the guys…

After finishing my time in active duty I decided for some abstract reason that I should beat-feet back to Washington. As I drove the moving van with Harley and ‘things’ in tow, I didn’t get the same feeling as I got today.

Wherever I’ve lived over the years I always felt the urge to go back to whatever place it was that my bed was in. Even if only for a day, I couldn’t fight the desire to get back. I mean literally the particular address in which I lived. The shitty old house downtown Port Orchard, the totally awesome apartment in North Carolina, the temporary barracks, the tent at a campsite while camping… Even while I was in Iraq, I got homesick for my container house if I was away at another location for too long.

Whenever I got back to those places I felt a faint sort of gratification that I made it back, but something has always been missing. It didn’t take me long to get restless and want to venture out and go somewhere again. It was a vicious cycle.

The last handful of years had proven to be less than extraordinary for me. I guess I did a lot with my time but the feeling I couldn’t ever seem to shake has been looming over me.

Today, I left for my first solo run after getting assigned a truck. Wouldn’t ya know, it’s to California. A pretty decent run at that. (Meaning pay wise). As I passed over the border I got a glimpse of exactly what I’ve been missing. I actually felt like I was coming home…

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