crossing the street to find home.

Somewhere in time, I remember the very first time I felt alone. I’ve spoken of it on here, so I won’t go into so much detail. But I was a little kid, I must’ve been 7 or 8. This sudden all-consuming darkness washed over me, something that to this day is still very hard to describe. That’s what emptiness is though… it’s impossible to describe for myself. Maybe others feel it too, but they have it defined as something else, too. Once this inescapable gloom flooded me, I ran and found my mom. I didn’t know how to describe the empty feeling, so I said that I didn’t feel loved. She rubbed my back and said I was loved. But that feeling didn’t go away in that moment. It eventually did, but it would always come back again when I least expected it.

Nearly 30 years later, and I still have this emptiness that has made its home within me.

I’ve never completely found “home.” Home isn’t just a house or apartment, it’s something that shelters you from harm. It can also be someone who becomes that shelter, they can become your home. You find comfort and solace inside their heart and soul. But tragically, houses can fall apart, and the house you occupy in someone else can also have the possibility of falling into nothing. As with a physical house, you’re putting your faith and trust that the person you call home won’t crumble, too.

How do we find our person- our home? Are they easy to spot? Will you know right away that you’ve found them? Is there a right or wrong time when they appear?

Somewhere far away in time, I knew my home existed… somewhere out there, they had to be. I felt a pull so long ago. The pull I felt was unlike any kind of pull I’ve felt. I felt it deep within myself. But like my emptiness, I couldn’t describe the pull. I couldn’t understand, not quite yet. Not for a long time. We never know when the right time is.

I don’t think we ever realize which pull or path to follow. The possibilities are endless, the outcomes of fate lie right inside your hands. But which one do you choose? How do you know which one is right or wrong? I think that’s what the mystery of life is: whatever you decide choose, it will be a lesson. It will never truly be a dead-end if it goes down in flames. In those flames where you burn, your ashes rise above and float away to another path. The ashes are pulled into another direction. Destiny beckons us and so the cycle of fate repeats itself. Fate is all around us, constantly.

We have all these parts and pieces locked inside ourselves that nobody can truly see. We can try to share them, we can allow some to attempt to solve the puzzle that we are. We can lose those pieces and maybe never find them again. Or maybe you’ve lost the piece, but somebody comes along and sees it. They eventually find you, and they’re able to return the piece to you. Are they part of that piece now? Were they the missing piece all along? We can’t really know.

We can try to follow a plan for when these things are supposed to happen, we try so hard to take control of fate, even if we won’t admit it. But it doesn’t work that way, and I don’t think it ever will.

Fate twists and turns and leaves me completely breathless.

We dream, and we sometimes remember those dreams. They can leave imprints in the back of our eyes, and perhaps we’ll find clues within them that appear in our waking lives. Are you paying attention to those clues though? We get so lost in the daily chaos and lost in ourselves that we’re not truly paying attention.

You can pray and hope and wish for fate to bring you what it is that you want and need. And sometimes fate listens because it’s part of the plan… sometimes fate doesn’t listen in the way you want it to. Fate leads you down paths you’re supposed to go down, and you think you have a say in it, but really you don’t. But within that, is where fate resides. The energy that is fate flows through you to make these decisions, and to influence which way to go. Fate is in your subconscious.

Sometimes wherever fate leads you doesn’t make sense. You doubt that this is the correct path, and you know what? Sometimes it isn’t. But you have to walk off that path to keep moving forward to hopefully the correct path. In a way though, the wrong path IS the right path in that time… We live and learn while walking these unstable streets. Sometimes we have to walk on the wrong side of the street for what seems like an eternity until we find a safe crosswalk.

I didn’t expect the crosswalk to appear now. I thought I would be stuck on the wrong side of the street indefinitely.

But there it is. I finally found it… Or maybe it found me?

I’ve been walking on the wrong side of the street for a long time, so when I see this crosswalk that lies right before me, I’m mystified.

The paint on the crosswalk is freshly painted over some cracks, but as it stretches across to the other side of the street, the cracks fade away and only bright paint remains.

And as I stand before the first step of the crosswalk, I feel the pull. This is THE pull. The pull that I’ve felt through time and has it pulled in every direction. All the pulling that has occurred, I’ve finally been pulled into where I’m exactly supposed to be: on this crosswalk that seemed to appear from thin air.

I look up- the dark clouds are slowly revealing the bright silver light that has been tangled inside of them for what feels like forever. The rain is slowly stopping. The pavement is drying as the sun’s light warms the broken road.


I can feel fate pulling me. I’m not being mislead this time.
Suddenly, the right path doesn’t feel so out of reach.


I think it’s time to cross the street and find my home.





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These are the musings of a 32 y/o dreamer, wisher and doer. All my posts are authentic; I write what's in my heart.

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