Foggy

I have always found great comfort in words. Strung together to create meaning, they are here to help me beat unhappiness, offer relief amidst these seas of uncertainties. I often celebrate in it, gush when praised, redden around the edges. Yes, I’ve learned to have pride in my words. Because to me, and perhaps a handful few, they’re true.

I write, not even sure where the page will end, as surprised as the next person when finally the words will take on some weight. Most often they do, but there are times when sadly, they won’t. Because in life, shit happens.

And that’s just when being together and holding and filling the room with thoughts defeat words. Hugged, you are loved. Forehead on forehead, you are comforted. Close your eyes, a sigh escapes, that is enough. It’s ok, we’re ok.

Yes, it’s ok to be sometimes lost for words, to try not too hard. Just momentarily gone, they probably needed a vacation too, you know. Pretty sure they’ll be back. I’m a baskin’ in ‘em when they return.

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Pictured: View from my office window