“From the depths of mystery, and even from the heights of splendor, we bounce back and hurry for the latitudes of home.”
–Annie Dillard, “Total Eclipse”
Life in your mid-twenties has a way of making you question yourself. Am I where I should be in life? Am I the person that I always hoped I’d be? Am I still working on being that ideal person? Am I an adult yet, even though the thought of any “grown-up duties” (marriage, motherhood, mortgages) terrifies me? My reservations for the rapidly approaching reality that is adulthood are remedied by one place: Home.
Home isn’t necessarily the house you grew up in, the people in your family or the address on your mailbox. For me, it’s the feeling of being grounded. A reminder that this is where you came from; a respite from the ideal image you see for yourself; a reflection of your inner-essence.
Home for me is 150 acres of woods, farmland, streams, and fields tucked away in the rural landscape of Northern Maryland. Now, given, I only live 45 minutes away from my childhood home but it’s far enough away to serve as a getaway. I stand in the same fields of flowers, wade in the same streams, and relax against the same trees that I did as a child.
From afar it appears the same, but small transformations are noticed after closer consideration; trees mature, grasping for clouds without looking down; blooms spread, stippling the landscape in sunshine; creeks change course from years of water licking the banks. Nature has a way of aging gracefully, that I can only hope to emulate.