I think moving is giving me a very slow panic attack.
Just noting it and moving on and embracing the future. It’s not like I can refuse it. Time and the months ahead will not be refused.
I will have window boxes with zinnias and peonies at this new location. It may be a slightly surburban move, but then, I’ve never been able to have anything bloom in New York before, not given my own space and sun to do it, and that alone will be enough to keep taping up these boxes of books and assure them that in their next home, they will be read next to something orange, orange and fragrant and alive.
