I wish I could write something about contentment and love. Okay, I feel love. But contentment. No way. No any which way. We keep it going. There are the lovely dinners. There are the flowers from the garden. There are the smooth sheets and soft towels and fresh running water. Yes, we are blessed with all the modern amenities but lack steady employment and the security that brings.
In the moments of my utter darkness, there are my (handsome) husband's arms around me when I am weary of difficulty and trying and not feeling the worth of trying again. Is it this time of my life? Not knowing how to proceed but knowing I must. Oh, go improve something, help someone and through lifting someone else hope to lift myself. What turned? What old injuries continue to injure me now? And where do I go to be healed?
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