What can I do to be helpful? It takes time to sit by the window and become quiet. Lifetimes pass watching maple trees grow in the side yard, robins hopping through spindly grass. Say thank you? Even death is overshadowed by love, and even life. It's like I have a canoe that's never been used, it's like I'm a lake that's only just learning it has a bottom, it's like I'm a bale of hay that has no word for horse. When I was little I went fishing alone all the time and I don't know why but I liked rivers and forests and the sound of my own voice and how pretty the trout were, both in and out of the river. Honeysuckle blooms. Green moss that hinted we weren't wrong when thinking in supernatural terms. Witches know how to feed themselves, a nontrivial skill. Letting birds eat the strawberries I planted, letting happiness just splash everywhere, as if life were a milkshake with infinite straws. We watch thunderheads gather above the church, pausing coming in from the garden, briefly adopting an Old Testament view of our living. We are the observed link between ourselves and observing ourselves. Begin! Broken vows, broken coffee cups, broken chains of logic relating to being happy. Over and over I remind myself that the lost dog was found on the mountains growing dark and for this I am never not grateful. A last turn and then we don't know what or will we ever.
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