1. It’s my last morning. I had planned to do yoga but now I feel like I need a different kind of movement for work through the feelings. 

2. I walk up and down the road five or six times. I lose count trying to catch my breath. My phone says 34 flights, 1.2 miles. 

3. I take a cup of coffee and the watercolors and scissors and the cyanotype prints to the big rock that overlooks the dried up creek bed. Wander & Wonder. 

4. I paint another saguaro and then cut the prints into thin strips and weave together the indigo. This is the right kind of play for me.  

5. Permission.  

6. No, now it’s time to claim.  

7. I am practicing the language for the renegotiations that need to occur.  

8. He asks me if I’m sad to come home. I say “yes.”  

9. But I am less anxious than I was just 24 hours ago about my reentry.  

10. I get a seat for the flight. Three and one- half hours to Chicago, non-stop but already feeling like I am home.