Echoes Along the Yellow Road

by Rae Sabine

Two houses.

Two yellow roads.

At first glance, almost the same.

The strange thing about repetition

is how quickly the body thinks it knows the way.

Roads can feel familiar

before I have even arrived.

Almost rehearsed.

Almost remembered.

And still,

the houses are not the same.

Each one holds

its own structure,

its own quiet complexity.

This became a reflection

on the pull to assume sameness

and the discipline of staying curious.

A reminder

that even when something feels familiar,

I am still being asked to meet it

with clarity, attunement, and presence.

And to remember

the importance of distinction,

even when they evoke the same internal road in me.

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