I will not decide that you are simply a failed version of me.

On one income, my parents somehow pulled together the resources to give us all a rich archive of summer memories.

Until a team of scientists takes a much deeper look into my own cerebral functionality, I’m pretty much on my own to figure it out.

If you’ve ever made soup, you know about the importance of layering the flavors.

Her smile wide and grateful, she tucked the heart in her pocket and promised to take good care of it.

In the absence of the additional stimuli that saturates the senses when gathering with family and friends, we’re making good use of the rich silence that enfolds us.

Removing even a thin layer of dust on the bookshelves reminds me that I can do something to improve my lot, no matter how small.

I’m grateful for our luck and don’t bet the rent on much or very often.

Spending so much time indoors, surrounded by the cherished accoutrements of the life we’ve built within these walls, is equally gratifying.

It has been neither easy nor heartbreaking all of the time and who would want that anyway?

A week’s worth of lessons, insights and epiphanies acquired honestly.

Today’s sneak preview of what we can expect in the months to come has me all tucked into the life of my own mind, and I don’t mind one bit.

It occurs to me on a humbling and regular basis that this place we call home has kept its promises, each and every one.

One way or another, I was going to wake up Monday with some evidence that I lived a purposeful life here.

How about a little benefit of the doubt instead of instant judgment?

A door closed on three months’ worth of warm balmy memories, from building another four raised beds for tomatoes and delicata squash to playing with Bumper in the thin grass of the old fasting site one sunny morning.

Without a word to each other, we picked up the drums’ rhythm and let loose right there beneath the towering silver maple with moves neither of us knew we had in us.

It’s just so hard to trust your current vantage point when threats are flung at you fast and thick from every direction.

Haikus of remembrance and hopefully, hope.

…for the first time in seven hours, I’m silent and heading toward stillness.