And I bake cookies for the warm, aromatic kitchen, and to lick the spatula

The leaves turned orange while I was sleeping. I haven't quite woken up yet, but when I do they'll surely be on the ground in thick, cold, sheets, wet with thick air, wreaking of snow. I pull myself into a ripped porch rocking chair too small for my body, open the bean trees and read for the first time in months. I am driving through Kentucky with a Cherokee child clutching my spare hand. I am driving illegal aliens to safety.. Life has slowed down. But what is more interesting is that I have slowed down. My insides are calm other than to burst with an emotion I cannot put words to. It happens when I crunch through the leaves, feel sun mix with October air, spot a dog smiling as he sniffs his way through the streets. It happens when I think about my Jenya, smiling goofily, happy just to see me. I've been "good" for a longer spell than I remember in the last years, maybe ever. I am aware of problems and darkness, both personal and worldy. But finally I am in a position where I am able to observe, realize, take steps toward change, and carry on. I say "omm" with the masses and Namaste.