is all windows & skies & juniper trees. Again hemmed by mountains but where the air is breathable and the relief is
unbelievable, even if I’m holding both fists against the guilt in my gut for
feeling grateful for a bit of peace in an extraordinarily lovely place.
The cat’s gone nocturne. I’ve learned I can drown a
mouse. And I’m now the proud owner, more or less, of two dogs so in love I
wonder if I’ve ever felt anything comparable. Nighttime I separate them by
glass, but Sophie (Flan’s new love) is always waiting when we wake. She can
hear me stir in bed from outside. She’s lovely, and I cannot beat her, no
matter how many times my elderly rancher neighbor brings me a rolled, duct
taped newspaper and tells me I must hurt her feelings if she’s ever going to go
home again. Who is he to say where home is. Who am I to “train” another man’s
dog. To deny my dog (or his) some love on this terrain where only the tenacious
survive.
I didn’t think home for me was nestled here at an
elevation where my sinuses feel like peach pits on a spit in the sun and I
don’t eat right without anyone to cook for, but I guess home is where the parts
of my heart are slogging slowly across the floor to one another again.
God I’ve missed cartwheels across the floor and laughing
at the absolute grandeur of a sun that day after day presses over the mountains
and dives down among others each night. I have a few friends to thank for
helping me to get here and for allowing me to stay. You know who you are, and I
love you, even if I’m a controlling, micromanaging, neurotic freak who
worries too much and has to talk herself through the fear of every doorway.
Fuck it. Life. Love it.
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