A journey, however small, is a wonderful thing. It means you have a destination. A goal to achieve. And along the way, the easy path or the rough path, you learn to survive whatever bumps the road throws at you. To reach your destination is the culmination of your current journey, but it is also the beginning of a new one. Some people, when I see them, fill me with wonder because of the arduous journeys they have undertaken and survived. They and the world around them are richer for the experience, for their eyes that have seen and ears that have heard a thousand things, some plain, some plain unbelievable. 
Words cannot express the anguish of a bedridden man, who once roamed the world in search of the next big adventure. Words too cannot express the longing of the man who has never stepped out of his bubble to touch and feel the world outside what he knows of his bubble, yet dreams of fervently every night in vivid color.
Such is the power of the journey undertaken, the new roads travelled, the joy of discovery and the glee of return that eons have passed, yet man is still somewhere a nomad inside. For some, the gush of a waterfall, the quiet hush of a meadow’s lush green landscape, the gurgling brooks and streams and crickets and frogs are what constitute a getaway. For others, the spires of a church, new people, honking cars, and an insatiable thirst for exploring a new city is a palliative. For me, its a combination of the two.
And at the end of many a journey, the familiar smells of our home, the springy bed, the home cooked food, and the people who await us are what makes the journey worth completing. Before we set off the next day, trying to quench our thirst for the next big adventure that starts off a new journey….