Finding Home

35 Where parts of me are imperfect and yet in those parts I become one and whole. 35 Where all at once I am beautiful and miserable and glorious. 35 Where I am alone, lonely, yet if I repeat it again and again doesn't mean anything Only that I am who I am and nobody else. I am my own and nobody else's. 35 Where I am finding crevices of faith here and there and boulders of uncertainty woven into me. 35 Where the sun hides and the moon appears. Where lines blur. Where various lives leave. 35 Where metaphors become truth. Truths obscured. 35 Songs. Sung in weeping or laughter unbroken after a year of longing. 35 Words. Or more. Lines or more. Rhythms or more. Vows or more. 35 I love you's. I forgive you's. I will love you again. And again. 35 Leaves turning gold. Kindness. Not love Not just yet. 35 I will be kind to myself. From now on. 35 Where parts of me are imperfect and yet in those parts I become one and whole.

A road trip to our favorite place. 20 minutes in, I had the boys change into their rash guards, put sunblock on their bodies. Garret and Morgan exchange delicious spurts of giggles after realizing where we were actually going. It had been quite some time since we last went.  We park our truck and alight. The sea wall had been destroyed in some places. But the sea was beautiful as ever. Garret's brows furrow as he sits down on the brown sand. Morgan's cheeks puff up as it usually does when a grin starts. He gingerly steps on the sand where the very edge of waves touch the shore. He does not dive in. He scoops a handful of sand and peers at it laughing his Morgan laugh as he lets it run through his fingers. He digs his feet in, toes curling and  uncurling in between small stones, sea, revelry.  He walks further away exploring. I wade waist deep and go underneath. I surface and see Morgan gently lie on his side his arms extending, his right underwater, his left