Home

This concept is always a bit tricky for me, as there are two places I consider home: Colorado and Oregon.

I love our little house, our little life in Fort Collins, with the gardens in front and back, the lilacs along the fence and by the mailbox, the trees we’ve planted and the ones now gone that we still remember, the Rocky Mountain Bee Plants that surprised us one year and return each spring to feed the riot of bees, the hardwood floors and the patterned plaster ceilings, the elementary school around the corner and our favorite park so close. The layout of the house is almost exactly like the one I grew up in, and I love that, loved that house, that home too. One reason it will be difficult to let this one go now, if we ever do, is that two of my dogs died here, and as weird as it might sound, that is a precious thing.

And yet, half my heart still lives in Oregon, splitting its time between the Willamette Valley and the Central Oregon Coast.

But the truest home I have is this: home is where my dog is (dogs are), and wherever that is, he’s (they’re) probably with Eric, so even better.