I feel a change in the weather I feel a change in me. I wondered what the last time was that I picked him up and held him in my arms before he got too big. This morning I sat in the glowing dawn and stroked the still-soft cheek of my twelve year old son who is getting bigger every minute, I realized the overwhelming sweetness of living every moment as if it is the last time you get to do it. I hear the coffee pot whooshing quietly and the baseboard heaters gently clinking as they fill my house with warmth, with comfort.
The walking dead blonde bitch full#
Full with the sound of clocks ticking from different rooms tracking the avalanche of a gift of moments. So, I’m writing this from a different kitchen table, in a different house, and I am aware of how full it is to bursting. I first tasted the universe on a night like this I realized with a start that this is what I wished for a decade ago when I named this blog, even though I didn’t know it yet: Will myself to find a home, a home within myself we will find a way. All of a sudden, I realized I’d found it - and I’d found it in the gratitude, in refusing to abandon wonder. I know Josh has been through similarly rough seas in the last few years, and this record is one where we both sing along to the idea of seeing land, of finding home. I realized that this has been a sweet season for me of coming somewhat unexpectedly to a home within myself. Yesterday morning as the sun rose, I was driving along under golden branches that line my street and listening to Josh Ritter sing about his homecoming. The lyrics throughout this post are from his perfect song of homecoming, which has become my anthem in this season. The parts of life that were withering ten years ago are growing in golden and full. These last few weeks as the leaves change in Colorado, I’ve been listening to a lot of the new Josh Ritter album, Sermon On The Rocks. You’ve all been the best part of that long road, hands down. It’s ten years (and almost ten million pageviews?!) later, and I am so far now from where I was then.
For me, for music, for you, even though I didn’t know you yet.
I never thought more than a handful of people would read it, but I had things I wanted to say that were withering in the silence of my kitchen.Īnd so I decided to write. Ten years: On Josh Ritter, Pearl Jam, and finding my voiceĪ decade ago today, I sat at my kitchen table on my pink Dell laptop in my new hometown of suburban Colorado Springs and I started writing a new blogspot called “I Am Fuel, You Are Friends,” named after a favorite Pearl Jam song. Fuel/Friends is 10 years old today (we got the means to make amends)
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