Every so often, I feel nostalgic of that time and place, of that yellow house on the vineyard where my first duty every morning was to open the shutters of the floor-to-ceiling windows, and say good morning to the towering mountains. When I worked from home rather than the office, I'd let my eyes leave my screen and wander out for a moment or two, running over the vines and up to the mountaintops, over the houses and church towers that were stacked along the rows that came in between.
Every so often, in the hustle of my days and rapid page-turns of my agenda, I crave that daily connection to elements of nature. I crave being anchored to scenery, of feeling its effect on my mood and my perspective. I love my home, yet I am grateful for all the other homes I have temporarily had, here and there - places that have remained part of me.
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