My little hideaway
I'm in New York City at my older son's 750 square foot, one bathroom apartment. Waking before everyone else–my son, his wife, three other roommates, I yearn for quiet, nature. Contorting body, I climb up, over the desk that blocks the window I've unlatched, opened. Scrunching down on the desk, backpack in place, phone stuffed in my run bra, I weasel out the opening to the fourth floor fire escape landing.
Not the normal house guest, I prop pillows underneath me creating a nest. Sitting back to brick building, I look out. My little hideaway, a vacancy for one, is nestled among the trees. I feel home.
Unloading my backpack–journal pages, books, yellow legal pads, I create my day in advance.
Have goals that you're excited about, goals that thrill you. You need something you're working towards, something you love.
I told Noah this.
Crossing fingers and hearts with yours, I pray he hears me, hears God.
Sending power and love–