Sanguine

It's hard to believe that this is life, now. It feels so much like vacation, like camp, like a dream. I realize with acute precision just how dry and calculated and manmade synthetic my life in Mesa was. Planned roads, planned neighborhoods, planned shopping, planned time- and all inside, in the air conditioning. No room for this easy, sweet, day-to-day kind of fairy tale.

I'm loving afternoons by the pond, eating snacks and watching geese and trains go by. Gathering chives in the woods and taking them home to make soft egg sandwiches for lunch. A glass of wine in the gazebo with Mom. Lazy sun-dappled swings in the hammock. It's all way too good to be true.

We miss everyone, though. Wish you were here.