Nine Years
The way it unfolds. New tires, new employment, new battery. Cookie dough ice cream with her, Americano with him, phone talks with them. Less words, more photographs, new, tighter hugs, new body, and fresh, lined smiles. The way it unfolds. How I clung to journals and horses. I’m proud of nine years of getting to know my new hat, and I wouldn't trade it for anything. The dreams are real, but how I get there -- that is the mystery, and the path is divine, if I allow it to be. I have no idea, but I’m guessing that what comes next has something to do with this: more. What comes next has something to do with this: us.
Have a beautiful day. Just here for the ride, and I'm feeling open. :)
C.A. MacConnell
