I am back on Saba after time away in France. Two different places and cultures. One of market days, old stone streets, the local cat coming to eat and say hello, and morning bread. The other of steep roads, green mountains, and Caribbean sea in every direction.

This morning I am relearning my own kitchen. Where did I put the teabags? Why does the coffee maker sound different? The internet hesitates, then remembers me. The things we live by without noticing, until we leave and come back.

Every return holds a small goodbye. Part of me is still walking the farmers’ market in France.

We go away expecting something. A change, a rest, a new view. And we return hoping everything is exactly as we left it. It rarely is. The garden has grown. A neighbor has news. The light falls differently on the front stone wall.

We are a little different too. Each place teaches me to see the other. To see the choices we make to live. That is the gift of returning. You see the familiar with fresh eyes. You renew how you see.

Not every return is easy. Sometimes we come back to what we would rather not face. Even then, we bring something new with us.

It takes time to settle in. Remembering which switch turns on which light. Finding the charger. This is part of the pleasure, and a reason for gratitude. Every small task is a thank you. For a place to come back to. For friends who wave from the road and leave fresh flowers on the front table. For people on both sides of the ocean who make me feel at home.

We do this all day long. We step away from a task and return clearer. We close our eyes in meditation and open them to the same room, somehow new.

Maybe that is what maturing is, becoming vintage. Returning again and again, and seeing a little more each time.

Where are you returning to today? A desk, a friend, a habit, yourself?

Try this:

Look at one ordinary thing, your cup, your doorway, your own face, as if you had just come home to it.

Going away is how we learn to come home.

Today I am going slowly. Making coffee. Looking out at the sea. Grateful to be back, and grateful I went away.

Welcome home. Whatever that specifically means for you.

Thanks – Michael (he, him)

Please share this Daily.
this matters too – Call It Home.

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