Driving through the mountains the next morning, the sun warm through the glass, I ask the future for this list of things-
-Give me rest and companionship and sweet, quiet, slow mornings.
-Give me the capacity to love without conditions.
-Give me glory paired with self-awareness.
-Give me days with no ache in my heart.
-Remember the work that we did. All of us. Especially those who fell by the wayside.
-I ask the future to be gentle.
-I mean, that’s what I want most of all. Be gentle with us. Go easy. Treat us kindly because the last few years have been anything but kind and we are tired. We are worn thin like a thread stretched to the limits of breaking.
-Thread, please don’t break.
-Let us stay a while in the warmth of morning.
-excerpt from my new book I Wish to Say Lovely Things
I have your book, this book, in a bag with an octopus riding a bike on it, all ready to take with me on Monday to a small shop in a town with hardly any people so I can read it while I’m between making coffees, handing over postal deliveries and listening to the lives of the people who pick up their mail there.
Each excerpt you share makes me so very excited to finally have a moment to read it.