Fire breathing heart of mine, be still.

The air is thin and precious, elegant and warm. The days are delicate and May is a truer song than words. May, my friend, my little wisp of wind. May, my life blood trills for you.

Life and love are holding each other’s tiny woven strings like patchwork looming close. Stories I’ve missed, stories I’ve told all wrong, stories I’ve never remembered but somehow feel. Life is my storied tangle of mess. Love is a rhythm I know how to dance to. Without shoes, without feet. With my holy heart leading the way.

Some days are too sweet to write about. Some songs are too soft to repeat.

Somehow I’ve barreled myself to May. To Yardley, PA. To a thousand new adventures. To a new life. To divorce papers. To a trillion things unfolding and a million leaves unfurling. Life is happy these days. Full of moving and traveling and rearranging and playing. Walking on the canal and discovering puddles. Jamie is joyous and discovering and fiddling with his first attempts at words. Home is transient and tracing itself across state lines. The hurricane is settling.

Mother’s day makes me feel proud. I have accomplished so much. And it has been so much, and so rewarding, and so full. And it has been a lifetime, and it has been my life, and it has been the most beautiful choice I ever made.

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