I used to do my writing on an old Mac classic. When we first started graduate school, my office was in a sunroom in our frst apartment. There was a black, slightly dusty papasan chair to the right of my computer desk; a rabbit cage on the floor, and a litter box next to the cage. It wasn’t the most elegant environment for working, but it did force us to stay on top of the rabbit cage cleaning, and the litterbox emptying. The room had an interior window, so I could sit and see into the dining room from over the small square of the computer monitor. We were so proud of that first apartment, the first place we moved all our wedding gifts into, and squeezed out king-sized bed into the small main bedroom (no room on either side of the bed, we had to get out from the foot of the bed). But I think I was most proud of having that space of my own, a small sunlit room where my thoughts could settle, into the slices of light coming through the metal blinds, onto the papasan cushion where the black and white cat slept,  and out into the air around me, until they found a place to settle on my fingertips, and I could type, tap-tap, and make some magic of my own.

I traveled far from that sunlit room in the years between then and now. I became a mother of two kids, a boy and girl. we moved four times since then, the rabbit died, the cat, too. I moved from that writing room, to a large closet, to a desk in a guest room, to nowhere at all, to an office again–a shared one, but a room with a view nonetheless. The desk sits in front of a window again–a necessity, I think. Through the panes I can see the tops of the holly trees, and the trunks of pines taller than the house, taller than two of these houses put together. Somehow I have found myself sharing the space again with another rabbit, a brown-haired quiet fellow, and the dog sleeps behind me, on a soft brown bed. She’s black and white too, like the cat. Last night, when I sat here to check e-mail, I heard one of the huge barn owls that live in the neighborhood hooting out into the night, an intense, purposeful sound, cutting through the too-warm night air.

I am happy; the road from then to now hasn’t been straight or predictable, but I’m happy with where I find myself today, on this day, in this space.