daffodils in the window, wilting. the endless rain. wet clothes hanging from curtain rods, towel rods, doorknobs. piles of books on all the flat surfaces. the burned out stubs of candles. whole pots of coffee. tubs of kale on the bottom shelf of the fridge.
fast, unborrowed internet; a quiet car that doesn't stall when I hit the brakes: things that I went so long without that having them again feels like an incredible luxury.
saying over and over to myself, make the weak places stronger. although it's about injury and recovery, it might as well be a motto for the rest of life too. but it's so much easier to make the strong parts stronger instead.
outside, it's mostly pouring buckets, but the whole world smells like flowers. on clear days, I feel full of energy and good humor, and I marvel at what the sun can do. I think to myself, this whole time, it's been the weather! I thought it was me, but it was the rain. it's a revelation.
then, when the sky grows grey and oppressive again, I think, what's wrong with me? some lessons are so hard.
lately, my whole life feels made of secrets. close and sacred, and delicious.