I’m eating my supper of yogurt with cantaloupe and frozen blueberries outdoors on the deck. Night is falling, and there’s barely enough light to see my bowl. I eat slowly, listening to the crickets’ song and the wind rustling the leaves in the trees silhouetted against the darkening sky. A train whistle sounds again and again and I remember how years ago I decided that I wanted the place where I would make my home to have two things: a river nearby, and I wanted to be able to hear the trains. I’m right where I want to be. It’s very peaceful tonight, warm like a womb, and I feel cradled and cared for.
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