I found my soul in a yellow rose one April afternoon not too long after the laundry mat incident. The rose was blooming on the side of a building that is now what we call our goat barn. Back then there was no barn just my soul resting in a rose that rambled up some poles to a tin roof next to the trailer we were looking to buy. In front of the trailer was a giant satellite dish that was being used as a hunting stand by the resident hawks, an old swing-set and a plastic crab full of sand and cat poop.  An odd place for my soul to be but there it was waiting for me.

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