I awoke in my delicious bed this morning. Cool air curling into my nostrils - body warmly snuggled under the comforter. Pitter pat of the dog walking his lazy paws to my face and then the lick lick lick of it's time to get up. Throwing back the covers, my body shivers with the delicious cool. My skin shows color from its week long relationship with the Mojave. I'm not sure how I feel about the golden hue.
The morning coffee ritual. I open the silverware drawer, pausing, to recognize the design of the setting. I admire the pleasing swoop as I pull out a small spoon. This design is my favorite. I think of my favorite coffee mug - it's different at each house. Green here, graduated turquoise there. Bonding with objects. Pleasure of the familiar.
The Mojave is changing me. Or perhaps, I am allowing myself to be changed by her - constant wind, extremes of heat, expansive views, gorgeous sunsets, work, dreams and possibilities. Past and future melt into present moment, where I am weightless, cool water, floating in a cholla hidden oasis.
See, she pulled me back there even now, as I drink my Hollywood coffee. You didn't even need to send the Santa Anas.
To love one, does not detract my love from the other. Both directions lead home.
You could call it a first world problem. Splitting time between two homes. Driving two cars. Can I not be satisfied with one? Is one not enough?
Yes, I would have thought that. My Brooklyn bi-coastal apartment taught me much. The shift of mindset that comes with sharing. Deep bonding, love, connection, openness, trust, vulnerability, requiring to learn detachment, flow, equanimity. Expanding consciousness and awareness, enjoyment, living this life.
I can love one when I am in the arms of the other. And I do.
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