In my sleep, I heard the wind softly whispering through the bedroom window all night. The mountain air moved about the bedroom walls, flapping the posters, shaking the window blinds. As the sun came up in the east, the soft rays came through the window and painted the bedroom wall. Last night, I slept on the urgency to leave Flagstaff. I don’t really want to leave this town, this dream. Flagstaff has become home. But the larger southwest is my home, from low desert, to the ponderosa highlands. My home is where giant thunderclouds sweep the dry desert with curtains of summer rainfall.
The wind has been howling in Flag over the passed few days. So I will leave this small town, and it will solidify into powerful memories. My home is in Utah, but my home is beneath the San Fransisco Peaks.
It is sad, but I must leave Flagstaff for a while. I cannot say whether I’ll return? I never can stay in one place too long. It is my hope to constantly move from one place to another, and follow what my spirit may dictate.