“i’ve heard so many teachings on why he had to die, but it never seems to stick in my head.” i’m looking out at the frozen neighborhood. sentences can freeze and crack, too. the meaning they once held is nowhere to be found. they are brittle, ready to snap. “the question of sin used to keep
i’m walking across the wooden floor and grime comes with me. there is dirt under my red slippers. boots, kicked off on a towel also dirty, lay on their side with mud caked on. there is no snow to play in this year. no soft white quiet to cover the whole mess of the earth
abe lincoln said that by age 40 we all get the face we deserve. and yes, youth certainly covers a multitude of sins. a bit like the chlorophyll that colors the new green of spring and the lush of summer. the young, so lovely, with a beauty all their own. but that fades, and our
it’s good to see the water moving. to see water carrying sunlight and twigs under small bridges. it’s good for nature to prove that frozen water thaws into spring. that sun will shine down through bird song once again this year. always winter and never christmas was realer than i’ve known it this year. when
small at the start. the snow is falling and i watch from the house. it barely dusts the yellow slide in the yard. i doubt it’s ability to accumulate. but my doubt has little to do with what is or isn’t true. both my doubt and my faith can seem irrelevant to god. he does
the sky is grey and still we drive towards the shore. “i think it’s starting to rain. are you guys sure you want to go?” “mom. it’s the beach.” he tells me deadpan. “we are wearing bathing suits. they can get wet.” four year old logic explains it to me. we swim and it sprinkles.
when the rain starts and the sheer curtain blows away from the open window, i don’t mind. i see a picture of my frantic self running from open window to open window shutting out the storm. the thunder rumbles and the birds quiet down. it had been a perfect day. i sat in the shade