The Sunday after Thanksgiving he took her back to Boston. Every now and again, he’d steal a glance of her sleeping peacefully alongside. They arrived just before noon, unpacked her things, then went for pho and mango smoothies and he said ‘This might be our thing’ and she smiled and he smiled. When he dropped her off it was raining, so their tears blended in. They hugged as cars whooshed by. ‘See you in a couple of weeks’ he said. ‘See you in a couple of weeks’ she echoed. They hugged again, then she walked inside and he drove back to Baltimore.
Eye of the storm...
Resourceful...
A few more minutes...
On a quiet Thanksgiving morning, his bladder nudged him awake. He had fallen asleep alongside his youngest son, so it took him a few seconds to get his bearings as the alarm clock came into focus. 5AM. He pulled the blankets close as he arched his back, pushing his backside against the heavy breather next to him, milking a few more minutes of the warmth there.
Keep going...
These days, he felt everything more....especially when it rained. His bones reminded him that today was different than years ago. Everything was becoming more palpable. The world was still messy and beautiful simultaneously. The road ahead remained unclear and yet strangely, curiously, mysteriously, it offered a warm, soft invitation to keep going.
