desperately holding on

to these thoughts in my head, so when I have time to write, they will still be there – blue velvet sky, fractured pastel sunset, the glow of a still-innocent little boy, the frustration inherent in parenting a teenager, the resigned sweetness of the middle child, the wise and heartbreaking words of Tillie Olsen, a new wetsuit, an old inability to master my fortunately-mild-yet-still-stunting self-destructive habits – and the world, what of the world?


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