The place

I’ve written a lot about the place, I think, as it was a good place for writing. Dazzling morning sun made the early hours precious. Hot coffee under a rotation of clouds. The empty house. The part-time cat. The breeze which kicked the papers from their stacks had the soft touch of perspective.

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From this windowed perch I’ve happily catalogued every kind of New England weather. I’ve layered the notes of a piano over the hum and shout of traffic (to make it beautiful?). I’ve read book after book in the after-midnight stillness of an industrial part of town.

Tomorrow I leave my little tree house of solitude, and of deep peace, and of great loneliness. I’m like a crab that has outgrown its shell. In the buzz of moving, the excitement of creating new spaces, new possibilities, I wanted to take a moment to remember.

The gift of a place is its memories.

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The spirit of the place, when emptied of me, will be… what?

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2 thoughts on “The place

  1. DV says:

    Such beautiful piece 🙂 I’m kind of jealous of your way of experiencing reality. I’m working towards greater mindfulness myself.

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