This afternoon, I spent an hour sitting at my desk sorting through paperwork and paying bills. Dreary, mundane work to be sure, and yet, I am unaccountably content. The National is on repeat on the mp3 player, the windows are open, a soft breeze is blowing through the house as the shadows lengthen toward evening.
I am home.
We have been back in the house a little less than 2 weeks and hour by hour the fear and uncertainty of last year fades.
My heart is full of gratitude over the simplest of things; the mailman who walks by gesticulating wildly as he talks via his bluetooth headset, the yellow blooms of late daylilies in my neighbor's yard, the dogs sleeping on the floor near my feet. I am surrounded by the achingly familiar.