(no subject)
I love my home…
Walking in the rain with a cup of hot coffee in my hand, the chill doesn’t bother me at all. My favorite music funneled directly into my ears through little white head phones, blocks out the sounds of traffic. The great grey masses above are like my oldest friends. I was born at the death of summer and birth of the fall. This place and time calls out to me on a visceral level. How many times have I left? I have always returned, and I always will. I have always loved my home, but I am thankful for reminders like today.
Walking in the rain with a cup of hot coffee in my hand, the chill doesn’t bother me at all. My favorite music funneled directly into my ears through little white head phones, blocks out the sounds of traffic. The great grey masses above are like my oldest friends. I was born at the death of summer and birth of the fall. This place and time calls out to me on a visceral level. How many times have I left? I have always returned, and I always will. I have always loved my home, but I am thankful for reminders like today.