Leaving the Harbor

“When you leave the harbor, you don’t really know when you’re coming back.”

That line has been echoing in my mind lately. It reminds me of my silly little nomadic life, how it’s a lot like setting sail. There’s that mix of excitement and uncertainty, the thrill of heading somewhere new, paired with the quiet ache of not knowing when (or if) you’ll return to the place you left behind.

Every place you land has its people — the ones who somehow make a temporary stop feel like a piece of home. They become your small anchors scattered across different ports. But eventually, the wind changes, and you move on.

Sometimes I crave the open sea — the movement, the sense of being untethered. Other times, I long to be docked — grounded, still, surrounded by familiarity.

Lately, I’ve been wondering how to live between those two worlds. How to be fully where my feet are. How to honor each season, the one that calls you to wander and the one that asks you to stay, without rushing through either.

Maybe that’s what balance really looks like, learning to love both the sea and the shore. Knowing that each prepares you for the other. And realizing that both are part of the same voyage.

Currently Docked in Charlotte,

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