Growth. Mama, baby.
Yesterday was my late paternal grandmother’s birthday. Isabel. She would have been almost a hundred - 97 years old. I put out on the table a photo album open to a page with a photo of me and her in 1989. Her hair was white, I remember her as OLD. She was only 65.
The forest, the rain, a waterfall, a pool. Nakedness. A wonder.
“These are the days of miracle and wonder.”
Butter, bread, cheese, cream cheese. A frying pan. The resulting crunch and smoothness of a perfect grilled cheese.
A fun writing exercise is when you write out a paragraph and then it doesn’t save and you rewrite it, better. Perhaps.
So many Paw Patrol yogurt drinks in this season of my life. Of Aidan’s life.
It’s OK to delegate work that others can do too, and save the work that only you can do, for you. (Write the book!)
Since coming out as bi last month, it feels as though I am dancing with my freedom. I am trying on new hats, new styles of clothing, looser fitting, more comfortable. This is literal and figurative. This feels so, so good.
The miracle is that we’re all still here. Still working on it all.
I am working on keeping a zero balance on my credit card and it feels scary and weird not to owe anything. Freedom can be scary.
This post format is 100% inspired by Alisha Sommor’s posts.