Home isn’t a map you carry. It’s a current you listen for. It appears in a friend’s welcome back, in a familiar face behind a market stall, in a familiar horizon that grounds you when the world grows too wide. You might roam, you might build a life elsewhere, but the coast keeps a space for you, quietly, patiently, ready to welcome you back to the salt-and-sail memory that first made you. The water that taught you your own measure. | April Porter