Home Safe

This is the place I have been dreaming of. The small condo decorated just the way I like it, snoring beagle on the couch, love of my life due home any moment. Just enough earth outside for a small garden, just enough light coming in the window to energize without whiting out the pages of my novel, borrowed from the library. Music is here, art is here, animals, and good food and ways to explore my world are here. Love. Love is here. Family is here. Memories resting, memories waiting to be re-told, re-writing, cataloged, sorted and gathered. A comfortable bed-one of the keys to true happiness-an important lesson. I could get lost in here. I do get lost in here. I'm supposed to be working, and I am in a way, but its hard to get perspective here. This place. Our home has become my hyperbolic chamber. Hard to leave. And this is a good thing...except when it's not. Like those cold winter days when the only thing that rouses you from a warm winter bed is a full bladder, yours or the dogs. Cursing the biological cattle prod, but knowing that without it, there would be no moving forward. The gauzy film of semi-sleep would never be splashed away in the shower-crisp clean clothes never replacing baggy, dog-haired covered PJs. The get up and go is important. I think when I move. Home is the exhale.