There is a path we all walk in life. All the places we go when the path gets too rocky and exhausting and brutal and beautiful are dead-end detours. If you take these detours you are not bad, but you are wasting your time and energy. The path looks like this: Come back to the […]
To be honest, my small group, a group I adore, has not been an easy nut to crack in terms of vulnerability. Some people lay it all out there to whoever will listen. This group is not like that. Again, I super-love them, but spilling our guts is not really in our repertoire. So I’m learning to create the space for it. And then wait. Like you’re waiting for a cat to come out from behind the couch, sort of acting like you don’t even care, but you really, really do.
When I was young, I never understood how Dad couldn’t be grateful for what he did have. Today, I have a lot more empathy for him: I’m nearly his age and I fight the same temptation toward bitterness and regret. So I posted that photo of Dad on my corkboard, smiling at something out of sight. It makes me think fondly of him. Even though I didn’t see that side of Dad so often, it was still true about him. It reminds me to look not backward but forward, to the hope that lies just out of sight.
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