Day Twenty-Seven

Your favorite place

I really should have one of these, shouldn’t I? There was probably a time when I would have said London, but that was twenty years ago.

It’s no surprise to me that a sense of a favorite place is tough to nail down. When it comes to geography, I’ve always felt slightly unmoored. I think that carries through in my writing and is why I often find myself writing about the concept of home. Since that’s always been a mutable concept for me personally, it’s been hard for me to think of it in a permanent sense. Also, home has usually felt like a choice that’s been made for me, whether by circumstance (going where the job or the school was) or by other people (hi, Mom and Dad).

On a more general level, you might think I’d say my favorite place is in front of a keyboard or a notebook, ready to write something down. But, no. (Too intimidating, usually.) If I were forced to choose, I’d have to say a comfortable chair, a cat in the lap, and a book in the hand. And probably a mug or glass of something nearby.

That’s not too much to ask, is it?

One thought on “Day Twenty-Seven

  1. My favorite place is laying on the floor, when Anya is cuddled up UNDER her pet bed, and she pokes her little head out to gaze at me while I scratch her chin. 🙂

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