I’m sure we all would love to have a rainbow sprouting from ones home. It seems I do. Bragging aside, I think I do live purrty dern close to what could be divined as paradise. (Funny I meant to type described but due to a Freudian finger slip typed Divined.) I think I’ll leave it.
I love this hallowed, hollow corridor that leads from my docks to the road home. Especially in the fall. City crowds trail off far behind in the bay and tensions release when my feet have carried me up the steep hill to here.
Unless I’m carrying 4 bags of groceries, then I’m sweating and breathing hard and a muffled curse could be murmured followed by something like must be nice to drive right up to your door.
That would be my boat waaay out on the end of the dock on the right.
When I’ve gathered myself and regathered my grocery bags (and after the blood has returned to my fingers) I am at once removed from the masses behind me and am embraced by this little divine paradise of a community I’ve called home for 24 years.
My arms are definitely two inches longer since.