Paint It

The temperature drops 30 degrees overnight, you wake with a chill and smile. A cool breeze lifted me along the east river promenade for miles and miles and I laughed the whole way.

Someone asked me the other day how long I've lived here and I realized the real answer was long enough. Long enough to walk its streets with my back straight, long enough to look people in the eye, long enough to belong. I spent so many years tumbling around anytime the wind caught me, lifted and landing with no control of my wanderings. Maybe I'm not done walking the earth yet, but my feet no longer leave the ground at every gust. For all the things I do not have, I do have this, and it is worth everything.