"a song outside my window and the traffic wrote the words..."

sweet herbal tea. drifting notes of semi sorrowful music from "the autumn film" blowing over me here on the deck. a light breeze. i am wearing sweats and almost drowning in my husbands sweatshirt. Feet are propped up on a chair, knees bent, hair down, messy from sleep. eyes blink.

good morning modesto. good morning california.

it's funny that i actually live in california. funny that i actually live here. i'm not here for a visit or even here in a dream, hoping and wishing this would be real, because it is. i actually live in this little apartment. apartment that is messy all the time, strewn this mugs, wine glasses, clothes and current projects. apartment where i spend my days trying to create, trying to make something to wear that reflects who i am and how i feel, something that proves difficult when feelings and ideas are bouncing off each other. i spend my days here calming those thoughts, channeling them into something more. i spend my days listening to music. listening to band after band. listening to books on tape. listening to traffic, honks, neighbor's music and sidewalk cleaners. listening to loud children. listening to really loud children. listening to annoyed mothers swearing at said children, forgotten windows left open. but on some quiet mornings, like this morning, i get to listen to the breeze, the streaming sun, quiet air conditioners, our baby plants growing and my heart. thump. thump. thump.

i sew, sketch, write, work out, clean, think and wait. wait for another sound. there it is...

the sound of foot steps on the stairs, coming up two at a time. my eyes smile. the sounds of keys in the door. i put down my work. the handle turns and there he is, eyes searching until he spots me. we smile. my arms are around his neck. "hello love." he whispers, "hey you." i whisper back.

*sounds of kissing*