the buck

Driving home tonight I saw, silhouetted against a sky that looked like hard carmel, a buck, standing softly still, looking directly into me, his antlers making a dark deep pattern against the sky.

I cleaned my tiny cabin tonight by the light of 21 tiny candles and the glow of a full moon shining in through my new door. And somehow in all the mess and the jumble, in the chaos and the phone calls and boxes and packed bags and old journals, I found a piece of myself I haven't felt in years.

A part of myself that is so real. A part of myself, unafraid to work and be seen for the important things. A part of myself who wants to invest everything in the good people in my life, and let go of the extraneous ones. A part of myself who is truly, deeply, grateful for what my life has given me.
The barefoot child and the red haired woman, meeting at last, on solid ground.

This is home.