I am she who loves “Did I ever tell you about?” and “Why?”
with feet on the ground and breath in and out.
I am she who didn’t fit back then and maybe still doesn’t.
But cares less and more all the time.
But cares less and more all the time.
I am she who delights simply in this pen, no-drag-right-grip and notebook with sewn spine, no rings.
I am she who wants this all to not suck so much, to not be boring, to connect people, with community and guacamole.
I am she who wants to see all this bigger, and yet feel the dance floor hold me.
I am she who will giggle and write away the darkness.
Because this right now–look up for a sec and see it–this is the gift.
Because this right now–look up for a sec and see it–this is the gift.
If only for a moment–
I do.
And I want to replicate it,
to hold tight,
plan ahead for it’s
recurring
ding
on my calendar,
but it
slips–
and there’s the glow, realizing.
The It stuff
The jazzy stuff
The real stuff sits
bubbling up bubblin’
With gratitude that shines like goosebumps,
the unexpected words from that one kid. . .
who would have guessed?
I do.
And I want to replicate it,
to hold tight,
plan ahead for it’s
recurring
ding
on my calendar,
but it
slips–
and there’s the glow, realizing.
The It stuff
The jazzy stuff
The real stuff sits
bubbling up bubblin’
With gratitude that shines like goosebumps,
the unexpected words from that one kid. . .
who would have guessed?
Ahhhh! Didn't want this to end! Beautiful words upon beautiful words. Thank you, Evi!
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