There’s a route in my soul, that I know in my very core. I don’t need GPS, or an atlas. I can get there from anywhere on the planet. Just knowing I am headed there changes things inside of me. There’s a nostalgia that rolls through me, an adrenaline, an ache. I get antsy to leave, just to be on the road with my car aimed at Florida. I’ve been away for so long, yet it’s always back to her safe arms when I need grace and mercy from the roads I travel. She’s a lighthouse, through the hurricanes. A humid, thick sky full of stars, scented with pine, and sand, and salt. She’s an angry thunderstorm rolling in across the Gulf to renew an afternoon. I can feel the pull, my heart is ready. It’s The Black Crowes pouring through the windows.It’s sand in my floorboards that never comes out.
It’s the promise of seeing my Grandparents. Pulling into a driveway that doesn’t change, in a world that changes every second. It’s my daughters in their busy lives with boyfriends and school and constant texting… it’s telling them we are going to Florida and watching them pack at lightning speed because they share that same ache. It’s saying I am leaving on Friday and actually leaving on Wednesday because 3 days just isn’t long enough. It’s where I met you, oh so many years ago. It’s fireworks and lottery tickets. It’s the echo of my mother’s voice calling us in for dinner. My brother, sister and me together, racing, running, playing, fighting. It’s childhood dreams of places far away. It’s trying to get back there ever since. It’s home. It’s Thanksgiving.