|Old house, corner chaos.|
In the afternoons the sounds would rise to such a crescendo that i thought i would lose my mind. It killed my productivity and made my blood boil. I started to dream about becoming a hermit, living in the woods and never talking to anyone again. I practically lived like a hermit, because going out of those walls meant even more chaos, on top of the chaos i couldn't escape even inside the walls. It was getting hellish.
|New house, colonial quiet.|
Way down below, a bright green riverette snakes from in front of the house to the side, signaling phosphates are in the water. Goats feed on the trash that's been spread in the bottom of the arroyo from the last big rain. But from the sofa, you don't see any of that. You don't hear anything but cicadas and the occasional dog barking -- usually mine. There are screens on the windows to keep out said cicadas. There are kitchen cabinets to keep out the dust -- even though there's less of that with no street out front. And no diesel engines either.
It is far from perfect, but it is an absolute oasis compared to our last place. I think i can do this for a couple more months.
There's so much to be grateful for, and knowing anything can be taken away at any time only makes me all the more grateful. Especially in the face of stories like Kali's. She's raising funds to help her get custody of her eldest daughter. If you can help, i know she could use it...