Awash-The kitchen was dirty. I hate cooking in a dirty kitchen. The compost smelled, so I took it out. I smiled to myself, I never had a compost pile before, I was growing into this new place with new rituals.  The January air was cold as I walked in the crunchy snow. It pulled me out of my mindless mental commentary. Breath, arrested by the outrageous beauty of the setting winter sun, cast a blue glow on the snow melting into the orange, yellow, and pink rays. I was in it and it went through me, this silent moment of joy. This is mine now, this is my home.