as we pack, our home’s softened personal edges are fast becoming geometrically rigid and anonymous. these thin and pale walls stare blankly, matching the faceless ‘for rent’ sign on the lawn we hand-seeded and have tended all summer.
we will not mourn to leave it behind.
we dream of mountains and stars, of dry air and far horizons, of seeing our breath dance through the air over the oak-leaf-studded california earth.
we dream of home, of hope, as we approach the first-year mark in our new together-life.