Always arriving. Today I set out before sunrise for Squaw Valley on the west side of Lake Tahoe. A nine hour drive, eight with me behind the wheel. I’m here for a writers workshop that I have thought about attending for years. Here I am. Still me. Tucked away in a cabin in the hills with a gorgeous view of the now green and dry ski runs. A small town, a little world is bustling outside. I see them all running around. My drive was fast, flying through time and space, my faithful friends singing to me while I forge onward. Home brewed coffee in the cup holder. Sometimes I think that I spend so much time being me that I forget who I am. I’m happy to be here. I can feel the peace setting in. The sun is warm and the air smells like fresh gin.
Published by Erin Rose Belair
I am multi-genre writer specializing in travel, ad-copy, and nonfiction prose. A recent graduate with my MFA I am spending my new found time rambling around the world, practicing yoga, and searching for the best salad ever. View all posts by Erin Rose Belair