Realized this week that it's been near a year since I arrived here and I've more or less made sense of the changes from my time and this. In the time I've been here I've done things I never even imagined I'd do at home from ridin' vehicles that don't need horses to make them go, to flying up above the clouds to visit my home. I talk to folks by typin' the words in on a screen that makes them appear somewhere else - this still don't entirely make sense to me but if I think of it a bit like a telegraph that helps a bit. Foods so easy to come by here - the berries in the middle of December - not that they're anywhere as good as the ones we grow out in the rockies in July - but they're here and you can get'em if you want.
And it's been a good year. I've sold beds, tables, and chairs, and I've met folk that are the same sort I know from home - good folk with others interests in their heart.
And these are all good things even if I don't know quite why I'm here. Why me and not Michaela, or Matthew or Colleen or Bryan, or even Cloud Dancing. I miss the folk from home but I've got friends here I'd miss too, so I guess that's sort of what it's like when a new place begins to become home too. Never thought I'd say it, but this world might have a taste of it.