When my parents moved me to Arizona just a few months shy of my 11th birthday, I thought they had brought me to hell. From the beach to a 110-degree desert. I had contempt for the desert, especially desert decor. I longed for rainy days and would even settle for a good ole cloudy day.

The year my dad passed, something changed. I saw my dad all the time but didn’t have a close relationship. He had been sick for over a decade, so his death was a blessing. An ending to the pain, an ending to a life living one way when he wished it to be another. This isn’t a story about my dad; it’s just that in his passing, I could no longer stand cloudy days. I longed for the sun.

I found in my summer travels that whilst I don’t love the extreme heat, I missed the simplicity of the desert. I missed the sweeping views of the Valley and the surrounding mountains. Man, do I love the mountains. I’ll take the longer route just to drive by the mountains.

This weekend was beautiful, autumn-like weather with a high of 68, a crisp blue sky, and a light breeze. I spent most of my weekend on my front porch with the wind chimes and trees. I did a little watercolor painting and spent a lot of time writing.

Meanwhile, my home was being rearranged. We are the central neighborhood home. Not that there are many kids out playing these days. I decided it was worth letting go and keeping up with the mess to enjoy the outdoors with the resident hawk and the local stray cats. I was a little overwhelmed with all the possibilities.