Today so tender.

A lady in a group told me I belonged. truly.

I was convinced I hadn’t paid. I don’t remember paying. I think I didn’t pay, I mean, I am not signing up for things til it all sorts out, remember? post-christmas insanity and a new hearing aide that i paid half of? Did i do this? I can’t find a record. and she told me i belonged, definitely. truly.

and i’m all wet on the inside now. soggy.

sometimes its the very little things, you know?

Its a new moon tonight. Which means I spend a little time in the extra-dark, doing my damndest to attribute value to myself. to be proud, to recognize some good truths about myself. to see ‘letting go’ as part of the process and not failure. process is my bag, i just have to mary poppins the shit out of it, so it can carry more than is possible.

There will be popcorn, this new moon. And maybe I’ll call myself a writer today. a writer who has friends who write, who is slowly collecting gems of people, a clutter of beautiful people who just keep popping by, and in, and up.

I see you out there.

love love,


chewbacca of star wars
Photo by Craig Adderley on

3 thoughts on “Today so tender.”

  1. Hey Ms Writer, have you read Meredith Hall’s nw book, Beneficence?. Difficult topic that you might not want to take on – death of a child in a tragic accident and how everyone deals with their grief – but is extraordinarily beautifully written: honed, crafted. All that is embedded in a loving family doing their daily farm chores on a family farm in Maine. It’s also about the beauty of the land and the rhythm of the seasons and the farm work. There’s a good review on Good Reads that connect’s this book with her previous memoir, Without a Map, also excellent. Also have been reading W. Somerset Maugham – great writer with interesting things to say.

    1. I actually can’t read that kind of book, the death of a child strikes so much dread in me that i freeze, and so I do not read that kind of thing. Life is hard enough without traumatizing myself. Ha! Maugham! now there is a blast from the past. Not read for 25 years, at least. Glad you’re enjoying…

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