“Home again; another journey ends. I’m home again and grateful. I sat at my desk, looked out my window on the world — or at least my neighborhood — and journaled. I immediately felt comforted by a familiar ritual as I reflected on the days that led to my arrival here.”
“Today I’ll unpack, find my bearings and my belongings. Everything will find its place again and everything will be okay. I’m home again.” — Excerpts from Moving Story III, June, 2013 Continue reading
This morning as I write, I’m looking out the window at my desk. It’s an odd-shaped window, two feet wide by four feet high. It’s not quite 6 a.m. on this frigid Sunday morning. I’m on the second floor of the building and one story below the window, perfectly centered, is an exterior light flooding upwards. As the snow falls it’s illuminated, appearing as how you’d imagine snow might look under a black light. The fluorescent flakes fall like diving fireflies, sometimes dancing, circling in the wind. In daylight you’d think someone shook a snow globe. Continue reading