It's easy to feel alone and it's hard to feel full, so I long for it - the romantic kind. And forget about it - the hidden kind. Think about the times you've felt it wash over you. Consider the smallness. I remember my dad holding me in a hotel room in Modesto, CA (of all places) when I had to learn the word funeral and say the word empty and he told me it would be alright and treated me like a newborn for longer than I can remember and it was probably the most tender thing that anyone has ever offered me.
It's in the box I just received from my friend who told me she was proud of me so she handmade a perfect ceramic mug and I'll think of her every time I sip my coffee.
What you may think holds nothingness holds all of life in it and that invisible blanket envelops the world. Brave and worn and inward and outward, unsexy and annihilating, true true true LOVE.
It's between the lines, in the darkness, deathless and infinite, unfolding and awakening in fires and strangers and babies and tears streaming down faces from laughing and crying.
It is the action of neverending forgiveness and I am so thankful for all that I've been gifted. It's more than I deserve and I hope that in my lifetime, I'm able to repay at least a tiny fraction of the unconditional, broken-but-perfect, straight-up, gut-wrenching, life-affirming force that asks of me to become more human and humane.