So lovely being home after the week away – New York, Charlotte, Gainesville, Dallas, and back via LA. Every garment I packed has gone to have the city washed out of it, the cat has been following us like a little dog, I sorted my 357 RSS feeds and delighted in how simple and spare our darling house feels after all the superfluous pattern of hotel rooms, hotel coffee, stale air and air-conditioning.

Goose down pillows after limp polyester – my own fresh, textured linens, windows open to the night air, and the blessed silence which isn’t truly silence – I can hear foghorns faintly across the bay, and a car passing and can just imagine the freedom of driving through the dark on an empty road, out of the town and past first one marina and the little rise before the next, around the curve and more boats at anchor, a steeper rise then down the hill past the third and biggest set of docks, past the point where we live and down to the half-circle of the open bay, and the bridges in the moonlight before the road narrows and you begin to press into the intimate bends and inclines of China Camp.

It is lovely to be home.

About Tricia Rose

Not distracted by shiny objects.
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2 Responses to Home

  1. Mum says:

    Lovely to have you back…safely!

  2. Dion Ludewig says:

    I love the part about “[The candidate is] inquisitive enough to take advice from many conflicting perspectives, wise enough come to their own conclusion, and have the character to convince others that what they propose is the right thing to do.”

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