I’ve always been terrible at giving directions. I don’t take the time to read those tall green signs. Turn left on that one road. It’s by that one grey house that stands out in my mind, but not yours.  

But there’s this place I’ve been going lately. I haven’t decided what it will be called. It’s this place that makes your insides expand and it presses on the skin of your being and you swear there is no way your body won’t split wide open.

I hope my directions might be a little clearer because there aren’t any tall green signs to read.

I have often found this place under a tree or in the grass shadows on my journal page or when the morning sunlight was shining on an ant crawling across the carpet. And the best times in this place are moments stolen. One time, I spent some time with the late spring wildflowers before they decided to leave and then I drove straight to the edge of the earth to follow the sun just because I could. 

And there’s this place I’ve been going lately. I’ve decided not to give it a name. It’s this place that makes your insides expand and it presses on the skin of your being and you swear there is no way your body won’t split wide open.