Secret is curled on the sofa in a pink afghan knit by my grandmother’s hands. Her white paws stretch against the air like a cat’s while she sleeps. I’m left with memories of sea lions playing in the surf, towering Eucalyptus trees with their peeling green bark and the damp mossy smell of Redwoods in Samuel P Taylor Park.
This is home. It’s a peaceful place where the outside meets the inside with seamless boundaries. The beauty is so effortless. It’s as though the environment itself conspires that one sees what is bountiful and delectable in everything. It takes no great imagination, no hours of meditation, no creative genius – it’s as easy as opening your eyes and breathing. It’s all here and there’s nothing to want for – not today, not right now.
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