This is the road that leads to my house. It has taken me years to get here.
The road winds away from the highway and into the woods where shadows rule and noise has no place.
Farms dot this road, pointing the way to my own quiet sanctuary.
And when my road forks, I turn right and continue up the the hill until I reach a little cedar cabin nestled in the trees near the bayou. I shall always turn right, for following the other path holds no allure.
Here lies the bayou of my soul; my forested piece of earth with a little girl nearby. Here I write stories of Louisiana. This is the place where my heart dares to hope again, to celebrate the joy of it all – in spite of inevitable sorrow.
In this sacrosanct place, I can dream instead of holding on so tightly to the comfort of sadness and those restive nights of my past. This is my place to belong. Where I can plant those dream trees.
There is no need to turn left at the hill. For this is….
Dream Tree Bayou
Merry Christmas, everyone! May your days be filled with the love and happiness of home throughout the new year.