I miss the days in the old place. The warmth by the fire, flickering and crackling of flames so comforting. The familiar scent of wood smoke reminds me of home. Looking back at the quietness and ease of life, I miss it all. We are reminded during a break in the process, a strange silence falls. No ring of a phone or checking of an email. Just chirping crickets call.
After 175 days of being up in the air our feet get a chance to touch down. Watching from this distance gives us a chance to breathe and much needed clarity. Slowly we come back to the real world and return to normal tasks. We let this brief moment sink into our bones as the sweetness of our dreams begin to take form. The old place holds so much weight and aches to be put out of its misery. We do what we can each and everyday to release those chains until that day we can walk free.