I thought I was building a place to sit.
Instead, we built a place to stay.
The fountain speaks just loudly enough to soften the silence. The birds come and go without invitation. One dog curls into the loveseat. Another stretches across her bed. Brian drifts off for an afternoon nap. And I find myself watching, listening, and realizing that nothing extraordinary has happened.
Which is exactly what makes it extraordinary.
There is no destination here.
No schedule to keep.
No performance to give.
Just water flowing, wings fluttering, dogs dreaming, and two people who finally have a place where they don’t have to be anything other than present.
Sometimes peace isn’t found.
Sometimes it’s built, one chair, one tree, one fountain, and one ordinary evening at a time.
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