“Home is where the heart is.” It’s so true. Home is a place you know when you are there.
I was feeling that this weekend on a mountain bike ride in Marin. I was on a section of singletrack waiting for the dog to catch up to me, just hanging out in the middle of the woods. I couldn’t have felt more at home then. It could have been the middle of the night and I would have still been at complete ease. I like that. That’s a nice thing to feel.
There are other times I’m at home. I took a picture yesterday at the shop. Here I’m at home too. I can make anything I want in the shop. I can take things apart and put them back together again. This is where my wishes become reality.
It does little for my social life that I’m at my best when very few people are around. Most people get to see me when I’m far from my best. There is a woman that I see around town that is brilliant in large groups of people and on the scene. I’m in awe. I imagine what that must be like… to be home then.
