I moved to the place where my life almost fell apart. 

Something about the 48th always drew me in. 

The arid landscape, wide open skies, lack of humidity. 

A place so remotely different from where I was raised. 

Memories absent. Until they weren't. 

The place I almost fell apart. 

I allowed myself to wonder what would happen if I left it all behind. 

I had a little taste. 

And then I too fell apart and was given a blank slate. 

Except, no slate can truly be clean. 

Marks remain. Remnants of drawings left behind. Stains remain.

Time does not heal all, but intentionality does.

Sunshine does wonders, as does movement. 

Exploring passions, considering new ones.

There is much privilege in this pursuit, and I recognize its presence. 

Peace can be made with the past.

The traverse is endless. 

Looking in the right places for the filling.

All ingredients added with consideration can create something delicious. 

To be tasted over and over. Yearned for over time. 

Comfort and memory provided. 

Harmony fills a soul in ways nothing material can.

Peace is a path which can be found, if only sought.