There’s a certain kind of peace that comes late in the evening, when the world finally shuts its mouth and all that’s left is the soft hum of the refrigerator and the weight of your own thoughts. Tonight, I found myself sitting on the floor, cross-legged, just… looking at my dear Bootham.
Meanwhile, I’ve changed a hundred times over. I’ve moved cities, changed jobs, lost people, found new ones, forgotten who I was and rebuilt myself from scratch. And through all of it, Bootham sat quietly on a shelf, in a box, or at the foot of my bed—waiting. my dear bootham
And Bootham has been watching over me the whole time. Do you have a Bootham in your life? Something worn, quiet, and impossibly dear? Tell me about them in the comments. I’d love to know. There’s a certain kind of peace that comes