In twenty minutes I will load my bags into a volunteer's car, lock up this cool, empty house, and head to Albany to fly home to San Diego for two weeks.
Last night was no roommate and no cat - they left right after our closing matinee. The quiet in the house was good closure. Any semblance of sadness I felt about leaving this place was cut by the empty, swept-up air in our once lively household. I sat on the wide porch after dark and it felt like I was sitting in my past.
It's time to move on, go home, reconnect and get ready for the next adventure.
Words on this blog cannot begin to express my joy at finding my home once again.
But leaving these temporary mini-homes always holds a modicum of bittersweet.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
3 comments:
"But leaving these temporary mini-homes always holds a modicum of bittersweet."
Very true...very, very true.
Thank you....yes. It's the constant separations that give all artists either a cynical edge or underlying sad demeanor..
Home is wonderful. Wherever it is.
Post a Comment