I'm sitting at my calm green desk. It is huge, sea-foam green, covered with a thick layer of glass that catches the light and plays with reflections. I cleaned it off recently and spend some time each day now working here as well as the kitchen table and various cafes.
An upside-down world of tree branches and sky unfurls at my left elbow. Gazing down into it, I remember the feeling I had as a child, that other mysterious, magical worlds were lurking all around us if we could only enter them. The clouded sky at twilight, the deeps of winter puddles, the rain-slicked street reflecting red and green stoplights -- I thought they were all magically Other places.
So I am greatly enjoying being here. My backyard is lovely and calm. The leaves are filled with fresh and hopefully young green leaves; there are tiny brown birds, and gentle sunshine.
I am happy to be here. I am mostly happy in my life these days, mostly filled with occupation and contentment, with love and with hope. I feel like my own life is getting better month by month, and I like to think that my friends' lives are as well. The deep and lasting feelings of friendship that I've discovered as an adult are one of the best facets of my life now, how steadily I rely on the affection from me to my friends and from them to me, whether seeing them daily or hardly at all.