Today I Rented an Apartment
Foliage. Ferns of a cousinly variety climbing chest high to what sunlight they can drink up between the plethora of varietal evergreens standing tall on our cliffside, so thick you can’t walk through them even if you wanted to fall the several hundred feet it would take to reach the sandy beach shores lining our little twisting mountain curve of the Pacific Ocean. Blackberry, mulberry bushes line the stone path that leads around the side of our home to carry us daily between these living inside of walls to the hilly driveway which will lead us off to daily adventures in state park, coastal trails and searching out stacks with land bridges in tact enough to let us climb those erosion born islands, Tristan will take this route to the space where he’ll wait daily for his yellow school bus to his first time, at 3rd grade, in a public school, as opposed to learning life’s daily lessons from the backseat of a VW Bus. The lingering sun goes twilight blue and orange against the ever-changing quilt of clouds that hover over our new beach homeland, on it’s way to some Russian morning sunrise.
I have rented at least a dozen places in the past, even bought a house once. Never before has it felt so new and good and monumental as before. This place is different. Yes, for all of the panorama glorious rolling in fog of everything mentioned above, but so much more than that because it’s my first home in two years. The end of an era of nomadic two lane highwaying. Because it’s the first place I’ll call home in a house with the Lady lover of my life, my missed chance college sweetheart that almost never was. Our baby blooms in her belly, the moon rises through the trees in the East, bringing with it the poem stories of what the rest of America, all of it more Easterly than us, has done with their days. Pennsylvania sleeps. Texas winds into late evening. Colorado is in sunset. We are on the water, my binning oven woman and I.
There is nothing but tomorrow ahead, the past a trail already climbed and camped, today a thrift store whim of an up and down US 101 excursion. I’m smiling.
Up Next: Austin Yellow Bike Project