When I make my mug of tea this morning, I took it outside.

And I stood on my front porch and looked and looked.

 I saw mountains.

 All I heard was hundreds of birds and rustling leaves.

My heart fluttered.

Like that flutter you feel when you come over a hill to fast and see a police car waiting at the bottom, or the flutter when you’re falling in love.

That kind of flutter.

It was a strange sensation—It dawned on me.

I was meant to be standing on a little porch, in the mountains of Virginia. I was meant to be renting the little trailer with a girl named Emily Smucker this summer. I was meant to be starting a new job in an hour. Somehow, I didn’t miss God’s voice. Somehow my leap must have, by some miracle, been faith, not stupidity this time.

It was a very nice feeling.

This is our living room.

 It had lived up to my dream of a place filled with interesting people and conversations. Everything from whiskey to kissing has been vehemently discussed by our various visitors. Its like the most perfect little realization of a dream ever.

( My roommate, Emily, created a video of our first week. Your welcome to see it, but please forget how ditzy and blonde I appear)