The river

It's gotten significantly colder here; it dropped from almost 80 degrees yesterday to between 55 and 60 all day today. Work was freezing, but at home, I have my blankets and sweatpants and hot tea and a comfy couch to curl up on with my book. I do like this mild version of cold, so I'm not complaining.

I noticed today, though, that when the chilly wind blows, you can smell the river. Because the Ashley is a tidal river that comes from the swamps, it has a highly sulfurous odor (which Jack, without fail, comments on every time he's here). I wasn't a fan of it when I first moved here, but it's become familiar.

The river smells of courage, because it's taken a lot of bravery to move away from NC and all my beloved people there.

The river smells of independence, because this is where I've chosen to settle (at least for now) by myself.

The river smells of promise, because there is so much that I haven't done, but I can see before me.

The river smells of love, because I'm learning to love this city and the people I'm meeting here.

It may be a little strange, but I think that the smell is comforting, for all these reasons. It reminds me that I'm not in Kansas (or Raleigh) anymore, but I'm not there because I'm supposed to be here. And it reminds me that I'm incredibly blessed to know what I'm supposed to be doing and where I'm supposed to be at this stage in my life. And that is very good.