I’m not sure where it came from,
perhaps because I lived in the same country home
for my first eighteen years.
Maybe it was because of the fun we had on vacations
to Delaware, Michigan, north Pennsylvania.
It could be because of my parents’ encouragement
to get out and explore new places.
I’m not sure where the wanderlust came from.
But it’s like an itch
that starts from the inside.
It tingles in my fingers and feet.
When I get in the car
I think of getting on the highway
and not stopping.
I think of the places I haven’t been.
A yearning to get away from daily life
niggles at my mind.
The squares on my calendar
beg to be filled in with a new destination.
Perhaps it’s a spiritual affliction,
knowing that this world isn’t my home
and I shouldn’t get too comfortable here.