I’ve thought more and more about this space these past weeks. Breaking into Blossom. I’ve missed it. I’ve ached from missing it.
And we went to a wedding: two men, gorgeous liturgy. And my cynical wife leaned over and said: “I just realized that this is why we did all of that. This is why we worked.”
And I witnessed (live-stream, from a thousand miles) the funeral of a woman who changed the world. She did. And I watched at the end – after the singing – as friends and strangers gathered themselves up to walk back into their own lives. I felt the tether: our little world, time, the slipping away and yet the sweetness of every connection.
And I know I’ve lost the thread. In the days and nights and the Trying to Get it All Right: the thread. And I can’t fix it today because we’re here celebrating my wildly kind mom’s birthday and that’s part of the thread too: sweet corn and garden tomatoes and kids who haven’t rested.
I can’t fill in all the quiet spaces today, but I can start again. I can say that if anyone here is still reading, I’ve missed feeling tethered to you. I can offer images from these months of silence. And I can come again soon, with joy. With gratitude for this, these threads that even when left slack for months can be made taut again.