Back in the Land of Rain

Back in the land of precipitation. I slept like a rock last night, listening to the rain falling on the sky light, and delighting in the familiarity of the soft, flannel sheets and the worn, brown quilt on my bed.

This attic room, which is like the tree houses I had as a child, comforts me. It's not like I didn't enjoy my 12th floor hotel suite this week, with the balcony looking out over the bay. I did take a hot tub in my room every night, enjoying the pattern of lights from the adjacent buildings playing against the walls in the black marble bathroom. But it's this modest attic room of my home that I like most-- the fir floors, the sense that this room was the logical response to wanting to be more near the sky, or aloft in the tops of the nearby bamboo trees.

I like the cherry wood cabinets and the mismatched, handmade wool rugs and the ample sitting space. Glad to be home. Always am. Always.