being away from home.
It’s funny how home was always a concept I used to ponder.
And if it actually had any meaning to me.
Nowadays, it seems to be the only place I say I want to go.
how things work like that.
Home to me now is laying back in my apt,
next to my love,
while my Haku cuddles in between.
Nothing seems more home to me right now than that.
Other than my longing to be in bed with those two next to me,
it’s been grand.
I’ve been spending my days gawking at mountain views,
having the best vegan meals ever,
learning more than I can about yoga,
being of service to another,
and my favorite thing of all—writing.
Writing has never been a thing I enjoyed. It was more of a habit.
I can still sort of say the same, except there’s times where I want to do nothing but.
These are one of those times.
I didn’t feel compelled to write this post today as early as possible, only because I secretly wrote one last night.
It was sort of a confessional. Something personal.
I honestly can’t imagine saying that out loud and if you approach me on the topic in person, I’d have nothing to say about it.
as the weeks go by,
all I can do
What have you been doing during this time?
I’d love to know.