At the time I didn't want to stay, those tired feet *almost needing a break from traveling. Looking back, I see myself staring for a few moments at the mountains one last time, and realize, staying is what I wanted to do. Maybe just a little longer.
There was something of home that became in me there, in the sense that yes, I could completely settle somewhere I knew nothing familiar. Scary, unfamiliar but still home for a little while. Somewhere that if I tried, I could always find a road back to. The picture is clear. And as much as I struggle at times to map out my next destination, there are some spots that stay vivid in my memory. They might have German names, they might be villages without much meaning to many people. They might fly by and you'd miss them if you weren't looking on the train. But those are the ones that stay.
Linking up with some lovely ladies for Five Minute Friday.