Hi, friends.
I’m slowly coming out of my mauve-colored hibernation. Relearning what writing feels like. Moving my fingers slow and steady. It feels good.
Life has been full. We bought a house in South Carolina. Kit started pre-k. I had some health scares. Went to Paris. And learned a new breakfast casserole recipe that I can’t stop eating. Life, as it always does, moves with the tide. And I’ve never been more grateful for it.
Our last little harvest
We move on November 1st—28 days away. 28 days of soaking in the last bits of New Jersey. 28 days to reflect on what brought me back here (when I swore I’d never return). Of what I learned. Lost. Created. Forgave.
So for 28 days, I’ll be writing to you. To myself, really. That’s where the good stuff always starts. That’s where it matters most.
But to you, too. Because I miss writing. And I miss the space to share it.
Until tomorrow,
Devon
I'm so happy for you to embark on this next chapter. Selfishly, I'm sad to see you go.