I took a photo of this squirrel outside the window of my three-storey mountain house in Lake Arrowhead, California. He was taking a nap in the rain, his tail curled up above to protect him. Only the window glass separated us as I snapped his picture with my digital camera.
That house is no longer mine. I am far away in Turkey, teaching English. I miss standing at that window, high up in the evergreen trees where squirrels sleep. I also miss my two teenagers who still sleep in that house with my ex-husband.
I’m trying to write my way back to visit them. It’s been two years since I’ve seen them or stood on a mountain in America.