Changing landscapes

How many years did it take for this rock to find its form? How many tides will it take to change it again, enough for us to tell the difference? Tomorrow will this stream be the same shape? Do the grains of sand look the same on this beach as they do a mile north?

A boy carves a canal in the wet sand, just down to the coarse pebbles, where the water seeps up and winds in from a nearby waterfall. He calls to his friends to come see it. He is proud of his effort as he works with the tools nature has given him - hands, eyes, knees, a stick, a beach.

This spring our landlord is selling the house we've lived in for just over a year. Where will we go next? Is it time to try to buy a house? Can I even? How will our lives change when we are somewhere else? Who will live next door? It is not exciting for me. It's painful, and it's expensive. Wherever we end up, we will hang paintings on the walls. We will fold our clothes and put them on a different shelf. We will find a new place to cozy up on Saturday mornings. We will use the tools that nature gave us - humor (eventually), imagination, resilience - and we'll invite our friends over to come see what we've made.

Until then, you can find me blankly staring down the produce aisle as 3 billion thoughts race through my brain about what the hell I'm supposed to do next.


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