Where am I?

No one ever told me that happiness included this demand to sit still with the fleeting slant of 4:00 PM sunlight as it crawls up the drywall.

That it requires remembering a tomorrow that never arrived, and finding holy sanctuary in the dull, steady click of a directional light at a dark crossroads.

It turns out dreams do come true; they just arrive wearing a different face.

And they sell love as a soft place to land, but closing your eyes next to the person you cherish is the bravest thing you can do. To lie there in the dark, defenses dropped, and trust the world to keep its hold on you.

Happiness is missing candy wrappers on the floor, and the nervous habit of fighting change inside your pocket. It is the sudden, sharp terror of realizing exactly how much you have to lose.

It is asking yourself, Where am I? so many times a day, just trying to pin your soul to the floorboards.

But then, the quiet hum of a distant Costa Rican rain settles into the background of the room, washing the dust from the air, cooling the edges of the fear.

My mind is a crowded cafe— the past, the present, and the future having coffee all day long.

And looking around the table, I have never been wealthier.