My little bird, there are things.
And there are things.
There are things that rattle deep, to the histories of pain, and there are others that are like pricking pokes, others that are searing hard and slicing to the bone.
And there is pain.
But to the contrary of the painful, there is the warming, the loving, the beneficent, the restful and happy.
We can always go there, with the circle of our family. And our love.
Please know that in all ways, I’ll be there for you — reaching back to the warming heart, to take you somewhere softer and fonder, deflecting as I can — the glancing stroke of these blades, that surely come to all of us.
Thinking of you this morning, from afar.