“I’d get lost in this green, ferns leaning against the trees, soil stuck to my feet, never dream of finding my way back again.”

I descend into an unopened sky, the ocean floor, the final embrace of a graveyard. Find your fill of me before my blue pales like a sour moon.

In a dream, my fingertips pulse. I’ll be patient in my blooming. In a dream, I let time pass through open hands.

I still know the fabric of where I begin and end.

I allow myself to be a weathervane; receive every feeling that greets the shore of me.

I’m writing about moving again, and when I write about moving, I really mean beginning. I’m beginning again.

Take me back to the evergreen trees; to the sunlight through the leaves, the bending ferns and fronds. The pitter of the rain, the smooth rocks sleeping under moss. Take me back to the life I know before this body.

I want to wade into the water on the sidewalk, crawl out of this feeling without giving it a name. Take a lighter to love’s sticky edges so its sadness isn’t caught in my throat.

We’ve never seen what a happy life could look like if we chose to spend it by ourselves – sharing our beautiful lives with friends, family members, the occasional crush, and lounging out in that quiet space alone as if an idyllic sunned beach.

Hold me here, where I feel less like a stranger to my own laughter. Where it’s easier to believe things happen for a reason or maybe, at least, out of a thousand winding roads my life might take, I will still find one that fits me.

In a dream, I’m holding you close and when I wake, I do. How lucky, to want and have.

People have been washed away by less. I’ll take every step gently. So often, you can’t tell the rush of a riptide until you’re already at sea.

I sit on the bare floor, leave my palms unturned, and watch relief pool into one hand, and uncertainty in the next. I will try not to lean more one way or another, but let them hold each other as company.

We’re in spring and I have learned how to be gentle and sharp; strong bark on budding trees. Hold out your hands. I’ll leave a pink kiss and a pocket knife.

I’m remembering again, how loneliness has always made me brave.

I will still live like a ghost in the mornings; walking, listening, pouring coffee to finish sometime by the afternoon, when I’ve had enough of watching the world and do all I can to live in it.

The world will be loud again. I’ll notice the loneliness less.

You have the ability to choose which way you want to go. You have to believe great things are going to happen in your life. Do everything you can – prepare, pray and achieve – to make it happen.

the best way to sharpen a knife is not to whet one side of it only. And neither can you solve a riddle by considering only one end of it.

Marriage is an economic arrangement in many ways, let’s face it.

I’m trying to find new ways to make this game more attractive.

The amazing thing about love is that it is the best way to get to know ourselves.

The idea that more taxes and more government spending is the best way to help hardworking middle class taxpayers – that’s an old idea that’s failed every time it’s been tried.

Humor is the healthy way of feeling “distance” between one’s self and the problem, a way of standing off and looking at one’s problem with perspective.

The emotions may be endless. The more we express them, the more we may have to express.