Terese & Michelle...

I no longer remember whose birthday it was, but I was gathered with some of my local homegirls in Santa Cruz, sitting around after opening gifts and eating cake, when Terese broke the news that she and Michelle were going to leave Santa Cruz. They wanted to live a slower life, she said; they wanted to devote themselves to their art and to actually living, rather than spending their lives working to pay for their lives. And, a few months later, they leapt. They did that thing so many think about: they sold everything, jumped in a motor home, and drove across country to a new place.

And the place they chose was Asheville. Asheville, North Carolina, a crazy, unique, vibrant and energetic town in the mountains of the southern United States. They live on an acre of land about 15 minutes outside of town, farther up in the hills, with a view of the Blue Ridge Mountains from their kitchen window. Vistas all around, young trees and singing birds, the east in early spring. Beautiful. Downstairs Michelle has created a studio full of her ceramic masks and amazingly sculpted female torsos. Terese has begun a business restoring old photographs and creating elegant books of family history images. Three young cats, a brazenly blue sky with bright white clouds floating past. They show us the windows they have put in, the improvements they made, the rooms they have designed. It's an easy, open home, full of sweetness.

We talked all morning around the kitchen table, with tea and stories and history and laughter. We lingered in Michelle's studio for an hour, talking about art and life, how to make a living as an artist, how to keep with the soul of it. We rested in the afternoon, then walked the property around 5pm, just as the light became quite bright. Woods and hills and two mountain ranges in the distance. Glory.

It's 10:30 pm; the day has come quiet. I sit in the living room tapping away on Michelle's laptop. Jean soaks in an epsom salts bath, and is calling me to it. Terese has floated to bed. Michelle is thinking of their current art show at Holy Ground, with work from Sisters Singing along with Robin Rector Krupp, and how they will pack everything up in the morning to be displayed at the reading tomorrow night at Jubilee! Community Center. It's been a sweet, quiet day–time out of time. Old friends, catching up. Delighting in a new home found, a place that holds destiny. There are some worries and concerns, the usual issues of life. But it isn't hard for me to see: my friends are happy.

Tomorrow morning we will meet with a group to set up Jubilee! for the reading, though I caught a glimpse of the beautiful space tonight when we strolled through downtown Asheville. We visited Malaprop's, the terrific local independent bookstore that is co-sponsoring our reading. We strolled through the lively town; I could see why my friends chose this place; why anyone would. There is a vibrancy here that is unique to this land. There is a particular energy here; it holds healing.

Off to epsom salts, warm water, sweetness, and dreams. Tomorrow, the sisters will be singing. But this is that moment of nighttime quiet that has come to be one of my favorite times of day. The house is settling. The hills are easy. It's time for sleep. I feel the spirits of these mountains holding us like gravity in their arms. Thank you, thank you, for offering sanctuary to my friends. Thank you for calling us here. May our chorus broaden out; may it echo yours.