1-1

it is sixty degrees outside tonight, with a breeze that makes the trees sound an awful lot like the ocean. hard to believe that it's january 1st, not some other random summer night when i lie around, waiting, waiting, waiting for a new life.
in a few days, i am going back to a place where i feel more at home than i have for a long time. right now i am entertaining a lot of questions about identity, destiny, and all of those other frustrating abstractions. yet, all the while, the breeze is such a large presence in this room that i cannot help but feel some inexplicable sense of contentment with all of this.
i guess i just felt like writing you guys. this day reminded me of more than one unique summer. on the way to blog, i noticed that there are more than 500 posts on this thing.
it's kind of like this big box, stuffed to the brim with letters and postcards (of different voices, colors, and handwritings).
i am content with this box, too.