I will miss these views. the sunrises. how the trees shake and sway in the wind during storms. But i also miss the warmth of the sun and the green of the trees above me when I laid down on the blanket in the park. The way the sun would cut back and forth behind leaves. I miss sitting outside sipping from a glass with condensation dripping down the side, wetting my hands and leaving me with a way to cool the back of my neck. walking up the road farther than we had before, just before we moved and finding new houses to ogle or critique, debating as we picked them apart for the parts we liked- a stained glass window, a piece of millwork above the door or a garden that kept its wild nature. I hope we'll return to that someday, i don’t know that we’ll ever return to this. To living out here.
