A day.

The sun shines, light clouds set on a bright blue sky.

I take my sweater because, “Oh, Mother Nature, you can’t trick me this time!” I know this is a tease, those clouds aren’t far away. I head out, sweater in hand.

I go to my favorite cafe. And today, I realize that the baristas still don’t know my order. They know me; I know them. But they don’t know my order.

Shortly after this realization, I go to my favorite grocery store, where the checkout lady didn’t even both offering to bag my fruits (“no bag – plenty of space in my purse”).

The check-out lady knows my “order” before the baristas do. Interesting.

I walk these streets like they are my home.

I return smiling and wet from only my sweat. The sun beams into my room as I write this. I think of tomorrow’s rains, I wonder how long until the baristas don’t ask what I want to order, and I smile at not having to tell the check-out lady “sin bolsa”.

This is where I am. This is home.

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