Written July 10, 2014
The world’s an awfully big place. There’s a million places you could go, but after you walk out your door, maybe your feet always lead you back home. And maybe that’s not a bad thing, maybe that’s a beautiful thing.
I’m still thinking a lot about traveling and home. Now that I’m not working as often in the office, I’ve been home a lot more. When I do things, even the simplest of things, I think about how these will be memories one day…beautiful memories. Ones that I wish I could press between the pages of a book to keep forever.
I think about how I water the garden in the morning and how peaceful it is sitting on the deck at dusk. I know it’s old news, but it really is the little things that make for a happy life. It’s the spiderwebs that glisten in the sun. It’s drinking water until you feel fresh. It’s riding your bike and feeling the air fill your lungs. It’s lying in the grass and watching the clouds. It’s reading a book under the shade of an oak tree. It’s going to the beach by yourself and dreaming. It’s baking bread and having a piece when it’s still warm. And it’s even writing down your current thoughts and rereading old ones, seeing how much you’ve changed over the years.
The other day, I spent a long morning sitting on my bed, listening to the rain fall. I haven’t heard the rain fall in an awfully long time. It was almost like listening to a melody I used to know way back when, and slowly remembering the words.
We went blueberry picking the other day too. I like picking berries because it’s old-fashioned. And it’s a lot more fun than going to the grocery store to buy a box of pre-picked blueberries.
Right now, I’m in a simple phase of life, drifting slowly along like smooth water. I’m surrounded by quiet murmurs; an almost imperceptible buzzing in the air – insects, perhaps, or the purring of traffic three blocks away. I don’t know…it’s kinda nice. As if, for the first time in a long time, I can hear my thoughts again. Just like the rain.