10/21/2026
There’s something about fall that makes a man think on life and death, and all the places he’s been that no longer feel like home.
The trees are putting on their finest colors before letting go of everything they’ve spent a year becoming. Maybe there’s a lesson in that.
Some days, I want nothing more than to disappear down some unfamiliar road and see if my soul might finally settle there. Other days, I find myself missing a home I couldn’t return to if I wanted, a place that exists now only in memory, and perhaps not even there as it truly was.
Funny thing about a restless soul. It’ll spend half its life trying to get away, then spend the other half longing for something it can’t quite name. Maybe we aren’t homesick for a place at all. Maybe we’re homesick for the people we were when we believed we belonged somewhere.
I’ve learned that you can travel half the world and still carry your ghosts in the passenger seat. You can leave a thousand places behind and never quite outrun the one you’re looking for.
And still, I want to go.
Not because I haven’t loved the places I’ve been, but because some part of me believes there’s a road I haven’t traveled yet, a morning I haven’t seen, a place where the air feels different in my lungs.
Maybe home isn’t a place we find again. Maybe it’s a place we haven’t found yet.
Until then, I’ll keep rambling.
The leaves can fall. The old roads can fade. There’s still a little road left to travel. And for now, that’s enough. ~ LCR
What do y’all think? I know IQ algorithms don’t like books…but this is for the real ones.
