sixteen months.

they say the first two years are the hardest. we have laughed, cried, screamed, accused, confessed, hurt, healed. we have torn ourselves apart and been rock-bottom helpless and then mended ourselves back together. we moved across an international border, to the seventeenth floor, adopted a dog, acquired books and records and gave away loads of less important belongings. we've taken hundreds of photos and sung hundreds of songs and learned hundreds of new details. i had home tattooed between my shoulder blades and then we left it all behind, planning our return before the last box was even packed. he will be "professor" and i will have fine-tuned my etsy business, perhaps expanding as resources and skill will allow. he'll be the stable one and i'll be the (not) starving artist, barefoot gardening and cloth diapering and teaching our kids truths that a public education would omit. our life will be simple, natural, and we'll never hurry. the music will pick up where it left off. we will be with family on holidays, and i won't have to cry in the kitchen while i attempt to cook like my grandmother. we love this city and we have found Our People and i'd rather leave this minute than try to carry on...

[ old crow medicine show ]