"Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player that struts and frets his hour upon the stage and then is heard no more. It is a tale told by an idiot, full of sound and fury, signifying nothing."

Wednesday, February 6, 2008

Dreaming of Home

I've always thrown myself headlong into my projects and plans, deciding that I'd figure it out as I went along. That's probably why my life does not yet resemble what I envision it should be.

So, when I decided to uproot myself again and stake a claim on the prairies, I vowed that I would be smart about it. I would take at least a year to plan it all out, to declutter my living space and in doing so my soul, and to clearly identify what I would not compromise on this time and what I had to let go.

I've done all that. I'm ready. I'm beyond ready. I can't wait to own my own home again now that I know exactly what that home should look like (hint: there would be a Chambers 1930's gas range in the kitchen and land as far as the eye can see from the window above the sink). I can't wait to get involved with a community again, to fall into habits again, to befriend people. I'm ready to retry my hand at putting down roots.

Fall can't come soon enough.

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