"i need to write." 

it's been musing in my brain for a while, 

and so i do:

in notebooks, journals, 

and of course my usual unconventional places

sketched up as 'daily chronicles' and ending in terms of how i need

to let this dream out. 

there you are.

So the last season began: autumn, the year's "last, loveliest smile." I went hunting for it. I even found leaves once. This time last year, I was more than positive I'd have as many golden leaves as I'd ever wished for; that the pace would pick up; that what I deemed "my life" would, in essence, begin. 

But over the last couple of years, autumn has never quite held just what my heart and mind had in store for me. This more in-between stage of life is surprising, with its own series of twists and turns, and while I can definitely say I did

not

expect to yet be in California (let alone the desert), I can also say I've been pleasantly surprised by a few of those clumsy twists, some of those graceful turns, and eye contact that was originally only a connection, but spiraled into something more. A golden Saturday morning where I take my breakfast and cup of coffee outside. A sporadic Thursday hike with my favorite person, filled with in-depth conversations and sparkling with lighthearted laughter. A quiet Tuesday afternoon, with time to redo my wall art, add a few Christmas decorations, think about the season I'm in now. The white skies bring a new stillness to my heart, a contentedness laced with nostalgia- and thankfulness that I'm in the here and now. 

I did something where I was searching for some kind of personal 

new 

stability, some way of concluding my younger years when, in fact, I'm living now within the beautiful discovery that perhaps there is not just one conclusion to be found or had. I'm far too young to conclude anything- I know that now. But I'm such a child at heart that there came a time when I needed to re-discover

me.

During the stress and self-imposed expectations of late summer, I began to feel just as lost as a photograph left mid-processing, stuck between twenty and twenty-one. 

I'm sipping hot tea and picking at a scone. Last week, my youngest sister came to sit in my chair, unwinding the cares of a twelve-year-old in one swift sigh. "Sierra, your space...is so peaceful." I glanced around and saw the uncleared desk, the mess of pillows. But I knew what she felt. I tumbled into my bed that night, exhausted from the days, but enjoying myself more than I have in a long time. I woke up when she snuggled in next to me around a quarter past two the following morning, but I smiled to myself. She whispered in my ear, and the words tickled my neck and spine: "I'm glad you only left for a little while." 

There are, I think, a few times in life- perhaps when you're walking down the street surrounded by crowds of people, perhaps when you take a moment to spin in a field of wildflowers, or to absolutely appreciate a glimpse of a most gorgeous sunset- when you feel quite far from home as you've imagined it. But home...what is it? Familiarity? People? I'm learning that within the definition lies the answer. Because I never wanted to "settle down" for a long period of time. My heart has always been the one that thrives on shared adventure: wanting one person to explore with- obviously with a home base; but as far as life goes, there's so much more than what meets the eye. Layers to pick apart, heartstrings to untie. If home is simply thought of as a familiar life, then perhaps those adventures aren't really all that far away from home as the initial hesitations might bring about. 

A year ago... all distant dreams.  But I've been blessed and lucky enough to realize that the people I've found, the relationships that have been forged and formed, and the wonder of enjoying home while it is still home is worth far more than you think when you first leave. When home is now simply everything that one knows...then it's as if a book has dropped open in your lap and the world is now at your fingertips. Because that street surrounded by crowds of people living their own stories, that spin in that field of wildflowers, the skies with their own hand-painted canvases that open and close our days, light our nights? Familiarity is to be found everywhere. It's closer than you think. 

i was reading journals the other day, and i will always say how i'm not quite sure why i continue to be surprised at the changes a few short months and years can bring about. spirits are stronger. hearts are greater. innocence is more precious.

 but the most beautiful? 

finding peace in the fact that God has already given me grace. 

now I just need to remember to give grace to myself

& be okay to simply step back to allow some quietness. 

what a time to be alive.