Home is between two rivers

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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