The best part of Phoenix is usually the sky, the way it stretches blue across the whole world. There are fewer trees than in Seattle; you can see more of the clouds. But sometimes the best part of the traveling is the way you get to see friends you haven’t seen in ages, like the family who drove their moving truck across the country on the day your daughter was born. You eat dinner at their kitchen table, stay up past your bedtime to talk about all the things that are hard to say across distance and time. Here are the things you’re scared of. Here are your dreams.
As you’ve gotten older it’s become easier to be honest about the hard things; it’s become easier to be brave. It feels good to settle into these bones of yours. To say here are my flaws and I am real.
Your daughter blows your friend kisses on the phone. Her daughter hugs you tight. It’s been three years now, but somehow the littles just know. Here, in the real world, there is a bowl of pomegranate seeds. Here, in the real world, is a spoon.