i really do.
the city isn’t for me.
nor is the beach.
i grew up there. in the country.
in smothering summers where the winds don’t blow.
and gray winters huddled around a wood burning stove.
raking leaves and chopping wood and listening to coyotes.
picking berries, swimming in ponds, jumping on trees.
getting hurt.
being dirty.
not caring.
being free.