oh, the times.

Don't think about it. Don't think about how little time you may have, or how much. Stop measuring it out, line by line, step by step, task by task, soon year by year.

I haven't written in a long time.

It seems like there aren't enough minutes in the day, but of course it isn't true. There were minutes yesterday. There are minutes today. There will even be some tomorrow.

I will be brief, to prove this to myself - it doesn't have to be measured and thought out. It doesn't have to be deliberate. I can write a flash, a few words, but it still fills the space somehow. Slow drops in the deep bucket.

This moment is here: spooning a cold mango smoothie out of the food processor bowl, slow pats on my sleeping kitten's belly, and words. They're in my head. You don't understand how they're in my head. They are clawing and heaving and crazy-eyed.

I said I'd be brief and I will. The last stretch home down a skinny one-way street. I never walk down it. I remembered there was a magnolia tree there and I wanted to see if there were a few heavy blooms still hanging. There weren't, but beside the magnolia was this wild pink tree. I was grateful.

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