I sometimes forget that with distance, a little reflection, getting on with my own trajectory and distracting myself with life-things in the day-to-day, I am able to so appreciate things that at one time, I took little or less notice of.
I feel this way about lots of stuff -- both serious and dopey. But lately, most acutely when I come home. Since living solo these last few months, I've started creating my own routines, deciding what I like and what I don't. I think I'm growing; plus, it feels good to be near the University hubbub and friends. But while I've always loved my southwest home (very, very much) I've found that I long for it and appreciate it in ways that I didn't think about when I was around everyday. I didn't think about the Ollie the owl, the never-ending stack of wool blankets, the compost bucket, my folks type-typing down the hall - always ready for political updates or out-of-the-oven snacks, the quiet heaven of neighborhood jogs.
I thought I'd show a picture of an afternoon last week -- a case in point -- when I couldn't stop smelling the lemon leaves beyond my childhood window, and watching the sunlight cast shadows on the drying clothes, the brick wall, my mom's shoes.