Where Dogs Stand On Rooftops

There is a place that I used to know, a far away land where for a sparkle of an instant used to be considered an address of residence or quite possibly a home. A destination where exotic scents and lush colors could be discovered on even the most regular of corners. The pace of living was slow but wonder effortlesly raced as if it were on a schedule. A place where curiosity became new friends with oddities such as cars chasing cars or even dogs standing on rooftops.

This place shall remain anonymous because merely typing its letters brings moisture to my eyelids and sensations of  vibrating bells to the walls of my heart. Since our unavoidable parting a few months ago its name has been hovering in my mind like a drifting wave of fog unaffected by the movements of oncoming breeze. Simply whispering the correct sequence of letters for this location will serve as a password for opening a well-encripted box of nostalgia.

This backwards yet strangely comfortable realm of hot mornings and refreshing afternoons welcomed me into its boundaries for the first time last November and undeniably I was a lost treasure seeker looking to fill my pockets with the invaluable bounties of memories, friendships, but maybe most importantly a hopeful sense of personal direction. 

Crisp and fluid ripples slicing through the massive ocean known as life haven't missed a rythmic beat as weeks have graduated into months since returning home from this far away land. Life has molded into a unpredictable sandcastle with friendships, asperations, and familiarity evolving or dissolving at the mercy of incoming water. However as the waves forming and crashing on all sides of me continue to break with sentiments of change, ghostly gusts of familiar breeze continue to whisper as I find myself staring out into the unknown horizon of the límitness body of water. 

The life ocean in front of me keeps molding and reforming and after months on this side of the shore I still find myself walking back onto the dock that cast me off into my previous journey. Looking from front to back it is apparent that so many things are changing but then so much feels exactly the same. I don't know why after this much time the siron like breeze keeps calling me back to the edge of the shore, maybe its to search for more answers but possibly its to find an entirely new list of questions. Looking down at the tide below there is one thing that has stayed the same since when this dock used to have a raft, Im lost. The hollow ringing in my ears doesnt sound like wind anymore, its becoming familiar, faintly like a car chasing a car.

Am I still looking for treasure? No. The truth is that I'm looking for the place where I entrusted my love, the place where dogs stand on rooftops. Its time to build another boat...