Disruptive
I have to tell you the truth. Try as you may to make it otherwise, you are going to be disruptive. Even more: you are going to be most disruptive to the ones you love most.
I have to tell you the truth. Try as you may to make it otherwise, you are going to be disruptive. Even more: you are going to be most disruptive to the ones you love most.
You can lose the sight. You can lose the touch. You can lose what you thought was the entirety of your connection. But you cannot lose your anam cara.
I suppose we were asking too much of you, 2021. We demanded that you atone for the sins of your predecessor. We commanded that you carry all of our hopes. We thought, at least, that you could be good-weird rather than civilization-tottering-weird.
What is it, kittens, that gets you out of bed? Do you have that fire in the belly that no tribulation can shake? Do you stretch towards the sunshine with invincible hope? Do you have your alarm clock set to play Lizzo at 6:45 am without fail? Is raspberry truffle coffee your morning soulmate?
Cats can move faster than we can, physically. Cats can’t understand why we move so fast, mentally.
We are not in control.* We are not as powerful as cats. But we are not entirely helpless.
There are a great many ways to get in trouble. There are also many ways to stay out of it, but they are far less interesting.
All twelve days of Christmas are long over. It is still winter. Much is over; much is yet to come.
Oh, Honey. You were ready for things to be permanently different. But here you are in 2021, still waiting.
How are you holding up, kittens? Are grit and grace and determination holding you together like so much magical nougat, or is the cheese sliding off your cracker?