a morning walk past rows of frank lloyd wright houses. empty storefronts and full coffee cups. construction sites and marquee lights. the birthplace of hemingway. remnants of the holidays. and the green line overhead with trains heading towards the city i call home.
there is a solace in walking and feeling sunlight on rosy cheeks. chapped hands untucked from pockets. and a mind wrapped around the wonderful smiles of strangers. there is a lot more i notice behind a camera or on my red schwinn than i do when i'm all caught up in my own head.
i'm thankful for the breathing room the winter gives me, for my east-facing window, easy mornings to be spent on creative work, a house filled with h's giggles, taking cat naps snuggled next to j. i'm thankful that i get to call this space home.
