It's been about twenty years since I put my pack away, but I remember feeling like you did way back when. When I started, I didn't know if I was running away or running toward something. I just knew that I couldn't take another day boxed in.

I can't tell you how to live your life. We all make our own choices. All I can say is that life can be hard. We rise. We fall. People we love die. I'm not sure how I would have made it without going through what I did as a vagabond. No matter how tough my life got, I remembered being cold, tired and hungry. I remembered being wet, full of aches and hiding under an overpass. The tough moments made me stronger.

It also made me love my fellow man. Oh, you meet plenty of bad people on the road, but working shoulder to shoulder in a field with an immigrant, or sharing a meal and a prayer with a family you just met, taught me to look beyond the politics, religion and creeds of others, and find that common bond.

Most importantly, it taught me who I was. All alone, without sight of humanity, the big skies and open plains made me understand who I was, and what really mattered.

Yeah, there are down sides. Hunger is a constant companion. Fear and danger can come about fast. The worst part, however, is that the experience never leaves you. You find yourself missing the freedom. You will always feel slightly out of step with others.

And perhaps twenty years from now you'll feel like me. Longing to leave everything behind. You'll hear the sound of a train, late at night, and catch yourself wondering if this is the night you hop it. As great as my life is, there's a part of me that feels it's just been one long lay over, and I'll end my days somewhere out there.

Follow your heart, my friend.