This last week I got to spend time with my sister, Hilary, and my brother in law, Ron at their home and where I like to call one of my “happy places”. The places where I feel at ease, where stress’s chilling fingers find it difficult to find a full grasp, and where I feel unconditional love.
Last week my storage unit was broken into and left void of more than half of its contents. Since my car window was smashed back in February with a suitcase full of items taken, it feels like I’ve been targeted. I know that’s not the case and it just happens to be a bad year for me and robberies- but I can’t help but feel a little (a lot?) less safe in this city I’ve just only returned to. The welcome wagon strikes again!
It’s 8:11am, Pacific Standard Time, and I’ve been awake for roughly four hours and 11 minutes. I’m sitting at my mom’s little red dining room table with a can of La Croix near one hand next to my trusty Moleskine planner and a steaming cup of Morning Boost tea in the other as little streams of light make their way in through her Swiss dot curtains.