Here we are.
Right here, a not so cold (so far) November.
Feeling grateful for so many things.
Looking forward to the longer view as leaves fall.
This season brings, again, new eyes.
Story takes time to tell. Maybe we might all find quiet kindness, resting in places in between the words, sharing what moved/moves though us, while imagining new possibilities for how it all might happen.
A small cloth but a zillion thoughts. And mostly a reminder.
I promise myself that if things don't work out, I will be OK.
A promise doesn't have to be a punishment. Things change. A promise can be a reminder. Of how it goes. For a while. I imagine promises piling up over time, like scraps of self. Loose patches. I keep them in my own way. I stitch them together. Sometimes I look at them as crazy moments given another shot at sanity.
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