i believe in tufted velvet couches. so much so, that i want one. or two. i believe in texas-sized thunder storms. absolute downpours. dark skies and the refuge it requires. i believe in hours set aside for reading. in coffee shops. at lunch counters. during three month european excursions. i believe in european excursions. i believe in a finding a home. building a home. needing a home. i believe in latte bowls and latte makers and stacked plates and tousled beds. i believe in fault lines and cracks and the space between. i believe in the steady breaths and silence of sleep. restorative and whole. i believe in moving trucks and packed boxes and the cleanse that a move invites.
in stemless wine glasses. in the feel of the bowl in my palm. i believe in white wine. sauvignon blanc, of the new zealand persuasion, imbibed barefoot in the kitchen--vegetables roasting in the oven.
i believe in men who can wear a sweaters. in over-sized oxfords and penny loafers. that cauliflower is the most interesting and versatile vegetable out there. that truffle oil pairs nicely with almost anything worth having (popcorn).
i believe in laughter and big, rolling tears--the need for both, the importance of of both, the beauty of both.
i believe all things aspire to music.
i am learning that a lease hardly ends the moment you are ready to leave. and so a shuffle-step ensues. of learning to live around those things that elicit frustration and unease. and that sometimes an expansive room and a jaw-dropping view are not enough to tether one to a place.
i believe in buoyancy. in the calm that comes from dusting. or reading. or long, hot baths. that we've all failed. and we're all flawed. and that happiness must be found on one's own. separate of anything or anyone else. because everything ends, eventually, everything ends. and most things, given enough time, enough space, enough heaven-sent perspective reveal themselves as blessings.
i believe that no gift is greater than that of sitting in silence and listening. really listening. and that we get to choose our friends. and as we grow and get older, discernment is vital.
i believe in peanut butter. an on an intellectual-level i believe in peanut butter in moderation. but on an experiential level i only believe in peanut butter in moderation when it's already too late.
i believe in the attempt. in the leap. and that things happen the very moment you think they never will--the very moment you give into that, accept that, make peace with that (easier said than done).
i believe in the return. in coming back. in coming home, wherever home may be.