back to stoyan house.
slept in my own bed last night.
woke up this morning to our regular old everyday:
vacuuming the roadtrip crumbs
and neighborhood errands.
i missed my space.
i missed the smell of this place.
but right now:
i'm missing them.
the steady stream of loves that collect themselves at larson house
during the day - and during the night.
i told my dad:
"that says something about you, ya know.
that people want to be here.
...in your home. and don't ever want to go."