I thoroughly enjoyed the sacred art of porch sit’n during my trip to the Deep South—feet up, mug in hand, heart tuned to the rhythm of frogs and falling rain…

My time there unfurled like Spanish moss—slow, sacred, stretched long with porch-sitting and soul-sipping. A week deep in sisterhood, surrounded by the soft stillness of cicadas and ceremony, punctuated by a sing-out-loud solo spin down the tree-lined interstate to reunite with family. Realignment.

My heart feels fuller, my skin softer, and my breath a little deeper after brushing the dust off my spirit in the wild, moist lushness of ancient forest and my dear friend’s magical creative cabin.

Raymond met me at the airport with a grin and a long hug; sharing how much he enjoyed watching my bronze bison bench keep company with every traveler passing through.

Home feels familiar as a lifetime.
Our love lives between lifetimes.