Static on the Line

I've been travelling for work for just about the last two months straight. Just pit stops at home to wash clothes and pet the dog and such. More of a visitor in my own house than in any of these hotels. When I was younger I wanted a job with lots of travel, like my dad. I thought it would be romantic and exciting; and it was, for the first year or so. Now, it's just itchy sheets, pillows that are too squishy, dry hotel air, windows that don't open, restaurant food all the time, and missing so much the life I can't wait to get away from at home. I've been so restless lately. Spring fever, says my friend. He's probably right, but just the second I'm away from it, I just want to be at home. Desperately. I'm in Redding tonight, with my pup, and missing home so much it could break me. This is the life I chose; so why does it feel so uncomfortable sometimes? Like someone else's clothes, it generally feels OK, but not quite right. Here's to new faces, new places, and may the horizons we seek be found inside ourselves.