Parallel Worlds are Not Separate From Us.

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I am farm-sitting on Bainbridge Island this week. I had this crazy idea that I would spend a year pet-sitting, but I have an apartment lease (lmk if you want to have my place in Seattle for a week or two!) so those plans are kind of foiled. My car is sitting out front, loaded with the leftovers from my move, and my apartment in Seattle is sitting empty— I haven’t yet spent a night there. Maybe I am drawn to these liminal spaces, the echoes of an entire life spent unsettled, a childhood without a permanent home. Maybe it’s time for me to sleep in my own apartment rather than caring for other people’s homes.

Here I sleep with the windows open and two down comforters to keep me warm. In the very early morning, before the sky is contemplating light, the barred owls in the ravine near the house hunt and sing. I imagine the sounds coming fro…