I miss organized randomness.
And the warmth that starts with a sip of red wine and catches on like wildfire through the laughter of good friends.
I miss the Portland attitude.
Even the skinny-jean, fixed-gear, tiny-mustache, wool-cap-wearing hipsters.
I miss late night talks on the porch.
And Mr. Fluff.
I miss the "fresh start" smell after it rains.
And the innumerable blackberry spines, pulled from flesh after a morning of joy and tangible service to the Lord.
I miss the community.
And our togetherness, like Mexicans at the river.
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2 comments:
Oh man. I miss being a mexican at the river too. so together, and in my underwear, getting thrown into the ice, but with laughter
i wish i was amexican at the river
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