9:23 a.m. -
Leaving
At season's end, some other distant place beckons me making soft demands on my heart. Faro's face rises up more and more often when thoughts cease and I'm at rest and I can hear his voice, a distant whisper. I'm torn but harsh winter winds will descend this place and in spite of my deep longing, I cannot package this place up in a suitcase and take it along with me. Chipmunks and squirrels Hiberbate beneath the cold hard ground but no longer is there ant safe warm dwelling for me. Not even a room in the attic of their minds. Not here, no more. I must be content with reminisces of crackling fires, warm blankets, hot tea with milk presented on a tray. A home awaiting among these towering pines. My heart is breaking, I grasp for a rope long gone. I want so much to stay, please, please. heaviness decends, tears are fought back. I must think of Faro and all the others of his kind that provided comfort of sorts when comfort seemed scarce. I know I must go. Life never promised to be easy and I remind myself of courage of heart. I gather it as an overcoat, stiffen my spine and hope against hope no one will pretend to want me to stay a few days longer. I can see it in their eyes. I couldn't bear it and I see way too clearly. I would have stayed a thousand years ago if only you wanted me.

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