you're not an orphan.

okay, well, in all actuality, i am. i mean, technically speaking.

i have spent a good portion of my life being an island. offering myself to others when they need love, coffee, music or an open heart has been a joy of mine for years. but you? no, you stay over there. i will handle this on my own. you call me when you need something, i'll be just fine over here.

no longer.

i know i have written about this before. this idea that no one really is ever 'fine' when they are sobbing and have mascara running down their face. boys, if you have ever been sobbing with mascara down your face we probably still need to have a conversation, and i doubt it will revolve around the tears.. i digress.

i made a tough decision around the end of november. i chose austin, tx as home to my newest adventure. i love LA. it was not only a home to me, but a place of healing, a place where i found myself and found beauty in who i am. a place where everyone is so inspired it was almost irritating. almost.

but austin is people. my people. people who have, despite the odds, decided to stick it out with me. austin has always been my escape from reality. in college i would drive off in the middle of the night to crash on a couch of a couple close friends, knowing that in the morning we would eat queso and chips with pancakes and shitty coffee for breakfast and the world would slow down for a short while.

so, back to this decision. yes, it was difficult to leave LA. yes, it was EXTREMELY difficult to finally select a place for vintage heart. the most challenging thing? choosing to let those, who have been knocking down my door for years, in. let them be family. to let them see me stumble and fall and have days where i feel i have conquered the world. to trust that i will irritate them, and they will still be there. to know that they know my heart and soul so thoroughly that they won't let me fall away.

on the trip here, by way of an '03 eclipse with a best friend and a handicapped dog, i snuck in a sunrise at the grand canyon. i haven't ever been there and to say that it was 'grand' would be cheap. it was, shockingly, 5 degrees.

let that soak in for a second.

five. five degrees.

okay.

while the snow covered bluffs lead way to the never ending canyon, i took a moment. i laid down two pairs of shoes. one of my own, and one that belonged to my mother. she loved the desert and adventure, so it seemed like only the perfect moment to leave a bit of her. i will leave it there, as i would much rather share the story with you over an americano with a splash of cold soy, but here is a little snap of the moment. i hope it strikes you as an encouragement. we aren't in this alone.

when finally set free.

love and be love. austin style.