Picture = Acadia

My world is working its way into rights now. I have a wee apartment and a parking space off the street. The front door is cranberry to match the juice in the fridge. I have laundry and dish cleansing machines for my personal convenience and I can make tea any time of day. My clothes have homes in drawers and on hangers which is better than suitcases because it is easier to find items and remember that they are owned and loved and should be worn more. I have pieces of me scattered everywhere to remind me of who I was and who I will be and the walk between the two places. I have a chair to sit in and ponder and write about the journey. Every time I turn around I find something new that I needed or wanted or missed that I didn’t even know was lacking but I can now claim for myself again. My soul makes little happy sighs and life is good. It’s like little waves brushing up against the beach of a cove when the tide is coming in, small push-pulls taking away the stress of hundreds of days homeless and leaving scattered treasures for a shell seeker. I know things now about what I can and cannot do and I more deeply know friendship, answered prayer, comfort, and love. And now I can scribble my collected know’s down for keeps in the battered yellow poet-throne that I have been waiting on for countless days. It’s coming back home though I’ve never been here before. It’s rebecoming human.