I wasn't questioning whether moving was the right decision: I wanted to be closer to doctors as well as other writers and artists. But my body wasn't OK with this sudden absence of activity.
Facebook photos posted by people at home compounded the ache. Photos of the orangey-pink flesh of humpies drying on racks. Friends and family holding plastic buckets full of blueberries.
I was looking forward to being on tundra, away from asphalt and streetlights, where tiny plants, a breeze on the cheeks and the quiet of being with the Earth seem to make life make sense.
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