Wandering Roots


Is it a blessing
Or a curse
To not have a home?

Perhaps it is both.
Perhaps it is neither.

Perhaps it is an adventure.

An adventure making every place that touches your soul your home until you leave it.

An adventure that teaches –
Home isn’t a place at all.
It’s the memories you carry inside.
And the people who carry you.


A Dream

You know it’s a dream when you’re willing to give up everything else, just in case it might come true.

You know it’s a dream when you can’t imagine life any other way.

You know it’s a dream when you look at a sunrise but the picture in your mind is even more beautiful.

Dear Best Friend

Dear Best Friend,

I don’t think that you fully understand how much you mean to me. I don’t think that I even fully understand. But God really knew what He was doing when He allowed our paths to cross.

I know that I can annoy you at times, but you think that most of my antics are endearing. And when you tease me, I never doubt your love like I doubt so many other things and people.

Sometimes I’ll start smiling and everyone around me thinks it’s for no reason. But it’s because I thought of one of our inside jokes. I love how much you make me laugh.

Whether we talk every day or every week…whether we see each other once a week or once a year…I know that you’ll always be right here next to me. Because I keep you in my heart.

So thank you, Best Friend. For sticking by me when things are falling apart and when they’re falling into place. For checking up on me. For taking the time to know me as well as you know yourself. For calling me so that I can hear your voice, and visiting me so that I can feel your hugs.

I pray that I can be half as good a friend to you as you’ve been to me.
Because Best Friend, you’re not really my friend.
You’re my family.