Home

A relational visit drew me home,
  and the breath of nostalgia caught me off guard.
Transported in time, I wandered about.
  No agenda. No plan. No destination.
The smell of history wafted inward,
  through open car windows and soul that welcomed.
Oyster shell driveways cracked with rubber feet,
  compelled to call me back further than before.
Many years have come before this moment.
  Many feet have walked each memory with me,
each with independent recollection. 
At each turn another memory calls
  from a generation that lived before me.
Smells of salt, sand and oleander life
  pulled me from where I was and held me fast.
Time rushes forward in life, but backward
  in the inner dwelling places that we save.
They lay hidden until discovered new,
  like the cool fresh air that carried me this day.
This is home, the same yesterday as is now.
  I'm young again, if only for today.
God opened for me a portal of time
  and gave me warm rest for just a little while.
Like the woman just off 45th street,
  I found rest among my nostalgia and palms.
Home in the arms of God. Home as it was.
  Home as it is. And that drives me further home.