To Miss A Place

It’s a privilege to miss a place so dearly that you in your whole entirety ache to be back there.

What a blessing it is to have a community that started as strangers which you can call your family. Nostalgia, the sound you can’t hear, the smell you can’t sense, the memory is wholly ephemeral. If everything was permanent, everlasting, would it mean the same thing? If moments didn’t come to an end would they still hold value? Would you sit and ponder, enchanted with the magic of the past? Would there even be a past?

I stare at photos, gripping the edges as if the snapshots will twist and distort into a time portal. One that I can dive through, to just live those moments again. Skipping down dusty paths, blistering heat is more like a warm hug against my skin, not a worry in the world. I am surrounded with laughter, chatter from everything like the tall tall trees to the Tuolumne River. Love knows no bounds when it’s unrestricted, wild and untamed, set free like a dandelion in the wind.