There's a house I carry around with me like a second heartbeat. It's still standing—for now. I know the road that leads to it. Know the sound of the gravel in the driveway, the smell of hay that wafts through the air before…
I’m in one of those seasons I didn’t ask for. The kind that shifts under your feet whether you’re ready or not. And I keep finding myself reaching for something steady—something that doesn’t move.
