22 states. 7, 927 miles. Yessiree.
Heaven on Earth.
I'll refrain from quoting those stale lyrics about trips being long and strange,but they're not far off the mark. Sometimes, travel is luscious and juicy and fresh and freeing. And sometimes, my friends, shit hits fans. In the last month, I've seen all of that stuff and more, and even though I'm back at home, it ain't really over.
I don't want it to be over.
If I were the praying sort (and, well, I suppose that I am), I would ask this: let me hold the space I feel now. Let me carry this love I feel into every day. Let me treat each day as if it is new and holds mysterious possibility. Let me not take things too damn seriously.
Back to tending the garden, to my practice, to my Portland life. So lucky that I have a life to come back to. So lucky for the support around me. Back to the old blog. And on to some new stuff. On to different beginnings, and on to other endings.
If there is one last sentence I should write, I don't know what it is.
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