the year

Boxes, chaos, and goodbyes to a home layered with fourteen years of memories
-a life of twenty plus

The steep climb on a dark and uneven path
to reach
the barn turned house perched on a hill above a dirt road that wanders past farms
and dares me to run further each time I set out.

Atop the hill, the rising sun streams through the bedroom window.

Sharp pain softens to dull ache- and the living through folds into body and soul.

Light.

One thought on “the year

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