One-Sentence Journal, Week Eight

  1. 08/19/2013:  There is a big wildfire burning two ridges south of here, sending up an apocalyptic cloud of smoke that is dropping ash all over Missoula.
  2. 08/20/2013:  Fire is a necessary, awesome, beautiful, heartbreaking, and terrifying part of the world.
  3. 08/21/2013:  I woke up to the earliest light of day spilling across the field outside my window, the dogs snoring in a semi-circle around the bed, a soft, warm female under the same sheet as me, a cool breeze from the ceiling fan above me caressing my face, and still, STILL, my first conscious thought was, “I wish this town had a Waffle House.”
  4. 08/22/2013:  Pulling into the road that leads to my home tonight after swimming, the stable had just fed the horses and the smell of dry alfalfa kicked down the door on so many old memories that I nearly stopped, just to breathe it all in.
  5. 08/24/2013:  I have often found Saturdays to be the most difficult day of the week, particularly after trying ones, because the adjustment from being off the clock but still somewhat bound by Julia’s work schedule leaves me anxious, out of sorts, and struggling with what to do with myself.
  6. 08/25/2013:  A long hike in the sun and a cooling swim after were just what the doctor ordered; I feel positively glowing.


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