She is Home. The source of our very essence.
We are born from either collaborative concept or randy capriciousness.
In three trimesters.
Conditions of our residence be damned. She’s our mother ship and safety is assured.
Yet we are groomed for departure and encouraged to leave. Healthy leaving sees our mother ship go from umbilical confine to swaddling base camp. You can always go home again.
But is base camp really home?
Forever allegiant and drawn back towards it. Circumstances dictate how often we return and how long we stay.
The brevity or duration of our visits lessens not the value of our base camp returns. Nor the need to again return when we are too long away. She is succour.
Our earliest attempts ex base camp see us scrambling about on the lower slopes. Where the risk is low and she’s never out of eyesight and earshot.
Ungainly but confident in our knowing. Not that our scrambling will improve but that she awaits us. Home. Our base camp. And for now to her we frequently return.
Ambition. Compelling Options. Wanderlust and Seduction. Skill and Achievement.
All bolster our willingness and ability to venture above the lower slopes. The higher we go the thinner the air and we allow ourselves to believe that this air is somehow rarefied. Exclusive when it’s merely attenuated and less nourishing.
Our worst self fails to see the scores of others all around us, eyeing the summit and poaching our rarefied air. The audacity to think it theirs.
The deceitful cocksurety of exclusive air carries us to even higher summits and makes home superfluous. Base camp unessential. You can never go home. Nor do you need to.
Yet we return. And she loves us and questions neither our impertinence nor the length of our absence. You can always go home. Our ego gives way to the reception of restorative love. Shelter without judgement. Lush oxygen. Base camp.
Home’s permanence foreshadows base camp’s temporal utility. And we are forgiven for toggling her back and forth between the two. She was always there regardless of the construct.
But what are we to do? To what do we return when both are gone?