the sandman, the brakeman and me

I woke up early this morning and quietly shut bedroom doors to sleeping babies as i crept downstairs to light a fire and put on the coffee.

Shuffling around on cold wood floors, waiting for coffee to brew, listening to the cedar spit and crack. It feels like autumn this morning. Another change. I can hardly wait to put on my boots and wrap scarves around my neck.

Listening to Monsters of Folk echo off all the closed doors. I wander down to the dock, coffee steaming, fuzzy boots warming my bare toes.

The mist over the lake is magical this morning. The house is quiet behind me. Whose dog was that howling and barking over the lake in the middle of the night?

I want to sit in a cabin, all alone, with my thoughts. sit and listen to them until this all makes sense.

This house is beautiful. i can't shake the feeling of not having a home. i long for my things. i miss my desk. i miss my bed. i miss a house that feels like home.