A Thing or Two

A Thing or Two

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Hey kid, come on over here and wipe away those tears. Let me tell you a thing or two about a thing or two, so you don’t go wasting any more time on fools and folly.

Judgin’ by the way you go runnin’ on down the road after love over and over I’d be guessin’ someone told you that you weren’t worth much. More than once, I’d say, looking at the state of you. I’m supposing you keep headin’ on back out there because you believed ’em.
Kid, if he’s runnin’ you are never gonna catch him. Why not save your legs some miles and sit here a while? Take in the view.

Restoration

Restoration

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“… she told me she’d never adjusted to the light, she’d just never developed a tolerance for the world, her inoculation hadn’t taken.” ~ Miriam Toews, All My Puny Sorrows

Some friends and I have started a Bookckub. This is our first book, I chose it for the title. It is about two sisters, one struggling for life while the younger struggles with letting her go. Mental health, death, that intimate back and forth that only siblings have, inappropriate humour in darkness.

I have lost faith in a lot of things this past year … this book and it’s themes feel like they are no mistake. Some faith in something larger than myself is restored by the sense that the appearance of this book in my life is not merely a serendipitous turn of events. It is, as it turns out, a magnificent read.

Regardless

Regardless

Piles Creek Walking Track Fine Art Photograpy

Despite it all, I still believe in love … or perhaps because of it. I know the depths a human heart is capable of. Somewhere we know it can only ever end in loss. Not one of us gets out alive.

I would prefer to have things worthy of the pain than to shroud myself in the protection of fear – because the hurt is only ever an alternate expression of love that has lost a place to rest, a homelessness of the heart. At the end of my life I would like to be able to say that I loved well, that I loved deeply, despite knowing that ultimately it could only ever lead to pain. That, I suspect, would be a life worth living.

It is a work in progress.

In Circles

In Circles

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My thoughts have been turning a great detail lately to where home is. In these musings and ponderings I have come to the conclusion that the home my heart feels is irrelevant to its bricks and mortar location.

The places I live are where my son and I move in circles with around each other within comfortable silence. The place there is no need to constantly validate the strength of our relationship through incessant speech. I am never as silent, and as peaceful in silence, as when I am with my boy. It is having a house that others use as sanctuary – a place they are drawn to when trouble strikes. It is preparing them food, hugging them, and telling them that it will be OK even when I’m not entirely sure it will be. It is the friends I visit when the same trouble strikes me, and the people who hold me, feed me and tell me it will be OK, even when they’re not sure it will be.

Home, I am beginning to understand, is the people I love who love me back so fiercely that I have moments when tears well and flow over in gratitude.