He walks down the side of the road, smiling. No one knows who he is, and he likes it that way. He’s been walking for a long time, and he’s not quite done with walking yet.

Around the middle of the afternoon, he stops in a small roadside café. The waitress asks him where he’s going, and he answers with one word:

“Home”.

The next day finds him doing the same thing he did yesterday: walking down the road. He knows not where it takes him, but he doesn’t care. He’s looking for home, and he’ll know it when he sees it. As he walks, he sings a song, one he heard as a child and one he’ll never forget.

“I’d rather walk a winding road, rather know the things I know. See the world with my own eyes, no regrets, no looking back, no goodbyes.
And someday, I’ll go where there ain’t no rain or snow. ‘Till then, I travel alone…
And I make my bed with the stars above my head, and dream of a place called home.”