some is taken, some is given. one enters, one leaves. one travels through desperate measures, one tries wings to seek new ground. everything carries risk, every risk has a balance. sometimes there is an upwelling of awareness.
In the morning my little family went out to a sugarhouse for breakfast. The smell of woodsmoke and maple sap, light snow sifting through the air even as it melted on the ground. Eggs, buckwheat pancakes, plenty of coffee. Hearing stories of my sons’ exploits and plans. Despite sad news all around, islands of pleasure and joy.