Ever Forward

So I came home from Spain.

I turned the key in the door—

or maybe I pushed the keypad cause we’re digital everything now (fuuuuuuck).

I dropped my tote back,

slid out of my backpack,

left the suitcase by the door,

and took off my shoes.

Through the windows the A was still standing.

She even looks hot because it’s hell’s back porch season.

My HOA illegal and crispy balcony plants will tell ya better than anyone.

That’s when I realized—

Home.

There was a time, not so very long ago, when I didn’t know if I would be able to keep living here.

Too many memories.

Too much pain.

But it’s not like that now.

It doesn’t feel like survival.

It feels like—

champagne and pizza on Fridays with my people

and Garden parties

and yoga zebra rug

and writing into the night

and country music with the laundry

and thirst trap pics in the guest bathroom

and a million cookbooks

and forever dusty bar lights

and orchids and ferns and philodendrons

and a Christmas tree with travel ornaments

and sadness

and laughter

and bravery

and contentment

and home.

I wouldn’t have been able to see that two years ago (this week in fact. Yeesh.)

I read on a card once, “across the bridge a path awaits.”

Who knows what things may come?

I sure don’t.

I just believe they do.