veintitrés

Some favorite things remain:
buttered toast
morning stretches
fall blue sky
silly little songs about sunshine
napping on the floor
the story about my birth and the storm
(every year you tell it. don't stop. ever.)

I went for a run this morning... afterward I ended up sitting by the harbor, observing the liquidity of the sail reflections. Then I realized, I'm not sad. Not anymore. Not when there is so much to bask in. When people love you unconditionally. Would do everything for you. Would hold your hand as you brave the 8th and 9th circles. God forbid we ever reach the 10th, we've already experienced enough hell. Sadness has a way of consuming a million pieces - somehow there's always that one piece in reserve that sadness can't reach. It's no doing of our own, you know.

I feel a stirring under the soil. Our lives are about to synthesize. I am eagerly terrified.