Tired Eyes.

And after 15 hours of flight, I am back. California is much like I imagined. Only different. My bed isn't the same. My sheets are gone. Things are messy. (They will be debating the complexities of that sentence for years to come!)
There is a part of my heart in Chicago. I never knew that it was so true. Not much of me is here as I hung up photos and memories from Chicago on my Atascadero wall. They are missed.
I guess it is too early to tell, but I want something. Perhaps it is Jesus. Backroads Jesus. Perhaps it is friends. Maybe it is Christmas, or Hanukkah or one of the seemingly thousands of things that is running thru my mind.
So, in this sad attempt to get my thoughts down, I have decided this: Tomorrow, I'm going to eat, backroads, run and then Write. The perfect start.
Jesus, come meet me here. I missed you. I missed the stars. The soft cool. The silence. Love me all over again as I try to do the same with every jet-lagged ounce of me.