Over the last week I have done a lot of visiting friends and family. I made my way all over Ontario, spent some time camping on my own, and a few nights enjoying the hospitality of my friends and family.

A few of the destinations I had picked to stop at over my vacation were to check out an area I hadn’t spent much time in previously.  The others, seeing family and friends in some cases that I hadn’t seen in years, were like going home.

A stamp on a passport of a desired destination.

The trip of a lifetime, a perfect vacation.

It’s always been a place on the list.

This opportunity to go just couldn’t be missed.

That somewhere you’ve always wanted to be.

A place you’ve just always wanted to see.

A destination that seemed so desirable. 

But in the end it wasn’t so memorable.

In the end, you just want to go home.

It never matters how far you roam.

Another checkmark beside a map dot.

Another plane ride to winter where it’s hot.

In the end it’s just another passport stamp.

Another place you just set up camp.

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