It’s good to have some­thing to write about again. To have friends who are com­fort­ing and kind in my most sen­si­tive moments, and just as impor­tant­ly, things to con­fide in them. Good hair days. Reasons to wear some­thing nice. Dreams with­out desire. Feelings with­out fear.

I nev­er real­ized how much I need­ed a get away until I came home and got more done in a week than in the month before I left. Without a gui­tar or a work­load or an inter­net con­nec­tion or a rou­tine or any of my decks, detach­ing from life as I knew it was a sim­ple mat­ter. Maybe that’s why it felt like I was gone for so long, even though time passed so quick­ly. The only real con­sid­er­a­tion I ever had was how I’d like to spend each par­tic­u­lar moment, and pre­sent­ed with that kind of free­dom, I learned to tru­ly let go of every­thing else.