10 years...

800 miles behind me. 4 hours to go.

I lay on a strange mattress and watched worldly memories that I shared with everybody but now already felt a life away. I can still taste the truck stop egg salad sandwiches washed down with two 40s of Miller High Life. After a full day of being alone, and being in between home was and home that isn't, the simple room was pure bliss, an escape to my own garden of Eden of mass produced paintings and cable TV.

And still even the previous seven years had been nothing but transition as well. Wandering aimlessly on the dreams and expectations of others. That night I was wandering on, however, to the more concrete order of a grid that was to help me make sense of my life. I've always been a confused soul. Lost on the idea, clueless to real meaning, and blind to intuition. But since that night, perched halfway in the middle, I have taken some big steps to finding my way. Myself.

I am Peter Pan. I do not want to grow up, and am still a child in many ways. But it seems we always come back to home, and I do not know if this will be my last stop. Soon, it could be, ultimately, back across the ocean, to hills and inlets where my name was first spoken.

Ten years...