Between court dates and cat conversations, we carry on.

On a rainy spring day…

James and I are sitting in our living room, counting our blessings.

Even though so much around us feels uncertain—our housing situation still unresolved, the world at large feeling a bit unsteady—we find ourselves coming back, again and again, to gratitude.

An excerpt from Coby’s update on February 18, 2025 still rings true:
“…they had to fight tooth and nail to reclaim their own home from a tenant-turned-squatter—piles of cash in legal fees, months of stress, all just to get their home back…”

That story, it turns out, did not end there.
The legal fees are still very real, and the appeals and exemption claims keep pulling us back into court. At times, it feels like a dark Netflix series with endless episodes…

But the bright side?
It’s even brighter because of that contrast.

“Lewy” still makes his uninvited visits—more frequent now, sometimes more confident—but when he doesn’t scare us too much, we try to laugh at him. Humor helps. 

Our connection—with each other, with our closest friends, with our tight-knit community here and our supporters around the world—keeps us grounded. It reminds us where the light is strongest and where the hearts are biggest.

A recent visit with James’s brother brought us closer in a way we hadn’t experienced before. There is more openness, more understanding, and a feeling that we will be seeing much more of each other. 

And then there’s Wimbledon—our bright white kitty—who seems convinced he’s invisible when hiding in tall green grass, his shining fur glowing through every blade.

He’s grown braver, more at ease, even around me.

His “vocabulary” continues to amaze us—an entire language of sounds (mostly about food), especially when he chats with James. I think they truly understand each other.

We keep cycling through it all—life, challenges, small joys—even if actual cycling has taken a bit of a back seat lately. Still, we ride when we can. To the protests. Around the valley. Adding a detour here and there, like the Marshall Wall on a beautiful spring day.

And me?
I still hop on Bianca—my very non-electric, very honest mountain bike—and head for the hills. When I run out of breath (which happens sooner than it used to), I get off and push. No drama. The endorphins don’t care how you got to the top.

After a few hours out there in this paradise we call our backyard, I come back softer, kinder—to myself and to the one who needs me most.

We thank the universe for you—for your light, your support, your love. You help keep us rolling, even when the road gets steep.

Keep shining, dear friends. It feels so good.

Always from our hearts to yours,
with deep gratitude,
James and Margit

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