For my tiny apartment, and its muddy-brown carpet and thrifted paintings and infernally noisy neighbors, and the refuge of living alone.
For repeated words and weekly/monthly visits and love when I deserve it least, and for friends, not in quantity, but of the absolute highest quality.
For family, for rambling phone calls and forgiveness and meet-halfways and a soft place to land.
For this county and all its little towns, and for the struggle to navigate its politics and all the ways that’s made me better, and for all the good people I’ve met and the stories I’ve gotten to tell. For grocery store run-ins and familiarity and the strange joy of feeling lonely, but not alone.
For books, for the feeling of cooking or writing or creating something, for simplicity, for skill, for moving forward without knowing what comes next.
Thank you, thank you, thank you.
*Note: Okay, I said I was going to blog every day for a month and immediately failed. I’m trying again.