Strands of keratin. They slide between my fingers and I think-- Where were we, Love, when this small space at the end of the lengths were new, emerging like buds of Spring from scalp and skin?
A short poem about that one word.
Few things are more ripe for charity than living with mental illness. I have to rely on so many other people, and 90% of the time, it's Campbell. And he's the one with cancer! But he wants to do it. And I need to let him carry me in the dark times...even if he's crippled too.
Last March, Spring Break. I can feel it coming as I leave the city limits on my way to a long-planned vacation with the kids. It's a growing sense of trepidation, hovering over me, threatening like a black wave, trembling in place, poised to wreck its ruin...
C. S. Lewis once said, "Friendship is born at that moment when one person says to another: 'What! You too? I thought I was the only one.'"