2025/Skylar -

Each time the truck rolls up I can feel the weight of change,

The sound of the door closing behind us,

A new town waiting on the other side,

We are always in motion but the world feels smaller each time.

The friends we meet are temporary,

Faces in the crowd who fade away,

Yet somehow we learn to hold them tight in the brief moments goodbye.

There's a piece of us left behind.

Through it all, we find roots in each other,

Small constant in life or shifting ground,

The comfort or shared stories, the language of goodbyes.

In the end we are stronger for the journey