Accepting Yearning

It is snowing in Portland.
Only a few inches, cold only dramatic to those not used to their winter coats.
Back home, the roads would be salted and we'd be on our way
But here, school is closed.

I can't help but thing they're doing it right here
Snow is a pause.
It is winter now.
My lettuce will have died.
I think of snow as quiet.
Not that there is less sound
but there is more motion and no more noise. more quiet.
But right now it is loud, I can hear the sideways wind
I stay at home, and try to be ecstatic at the lounging day in the place I am currently calling home

Today mom says something wise, when I ask if I can set up shop in her garage.
You are welcome to live as long as you like in my home, rachel, but if you want to set up things your way, you should find your own.
Where?

the things I like most in my life now:
riding to school,
bringing home cheap cabbage from the fruit market in my shoulder bag on the way home
Picking Parsley and Rosemary for pasta sauce from the front yard
Pouring boiled cornstarch (what they call gloo-glob) in to recycled tins, helping the young ones slather it on newspaper and paper bags.
Making spring rolls for potlucks
sitting on the shady grass of the park on a warm day
borrowing movies from the library and dropping them back off again.

There are markets and front yards children and recycling piles and lawns and potlucks many places.
There is no good reason I should settle here, and hardly an inch of desire.
So far from familiarity and so close in to a city.
Where should I go?

I have accepted the need for some wandering, but am skeptical of that seeking, the myth of a place that just-feels-right
craving opportunity that wants me, rather than me it
craving settling in. my place my mess. fantasies of canning and chickens alongside a studio I will not have to take down.
This week I am imagining a farmhouse, last month a little apartment,
Maybe I could see this uncertainty as exciting if I weren't trying quite so hard.

Now I am trying not second guessing.
just doing those things my gut says to do.
My gut says get out of here
all thoughts end in that
and, though petrified of not having a plan
soon enough I will