We went home today. If only for the afternoon. To where woods and pond separated us from everything. When solitude was routine. And we were alone.
Why didn’t you stay? Why did you leave? Questions asked often. The answer for each is different. It was time. Isolation is a gift. Too much of it isn’t.
We went back to where eight years happened. To higher ground and wider sky. Where we shared a single heartbeat. A long one. That still lasts. And is strong.
We came home this evening. To a place less remote. But quiet nonetheless. For a few hours we were in both places. That too is a gift.
All This By Hand
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