I’m a homebody. Given enough books, I could stay at home a long time.

But every once in a while, there’s a scent in the air that beckons. The highway wants me and my soul wants to wander.

Weather and siren songs being what they are, they don’t usually mesh well with my work responsibilities. It’s odd, as well, because when i want that trip, i consider packing about an outfit and a half, maybe two, if the weather’s likely to change. Pack to go to a hotel? I need the big roller suitcase.

I’m not going anywhere, other than to my meeting at 9:45. and the one at one,and the one at three, and Poetry under the Paintings tonight.

But I tell you, the road calls. Someday when it calls, I will pack my bag, lock the door, and drive away for a while. Peace sometimes is found in leaving home, just as it is sometimes rediscovered in returning. Peace to you: you who are wandering, you who are staying. Peace.