I've been baking all day-- peanut butter blossoms and my famous soft sugar cookies. I'm tired. I got into mom and dad's jacuzzi tub and nearly fell asleep, this song playing on repeat on my headphones. Heaven.
I'm home, or the home that Wisconsin became when my parents moved here. Wherever my mother closes her eyes at night will always be home for me. I was raised (and still live) in Ohio, and I love the flat lands, the four seasons, the hills of Cincinnati. I plan to incorporate Ohio into my WIP, a chance to pay homage to the heartland.
Last night I dreamed about you-- yes you. It'd been forever, and our dream selves celebrated the unexpected reunion.
"You never come anymore," I whispered, leaning into your shoulder.
"It's not for lack of trying," you answered, glancing at the white drifts and falling flakes. "It's always easier to reach you here. You're closer here, you know."