A room of one's own

This entire post has been prompted by a conversation with a near stranger who, by the end of the conversation, no longer felt like one. Her simple inquiry was "where do I write" prompting me to reflect on being right here. Variously known as "A Writers Den" or "El Cheapo Accommodation in Santa Cruz", depending on how romantic you want to be about it all. Because I have long ago accepted that I am right where I am supposed to be I can also appreciate that hanging on my walls is the very same art that hung in my home from 1993 to 1995. The art belongs to my first girlfriend who was with me when I was sent to Bosnia and, in a strange twist, I am now storing it for her! It was also through her that I found a home from which to write. For now it is in everyway perfect. When it is no longer what I need I will leave.
I've also been in touch again with one of my old Officer Cadet classmates - they are making a DVD of the 20th reunion (held last year) and including photos from our time at OCS. Having opened the door the past rushes in and prompts me to continue the path I have chosen.
At every turn the world feels right and ripe to be whatever I choose. My ambitions are twofold but, at this minute, the priority is to write "the" book and I am.