1.2.26

P playing the piano and O lying underneath it, eyes closed. The other day, P and I washed dishes and we talked about the people he loved. He gave me two thumps on the back with his fist and we understood each other perfectly. 

E smiling with his whole being. A hugging me, thanking me for listening. It was such a pleasure to listen to her tell me what was on her mind. M and I talking about faith, the way he protects me in his own way. Sledding down the icy hill in the dark. Moments of lightness, moments of heaviness. Less words, day by day. 

Thinking of _, who told me if I left his life: "Well, it's not as if I would feel nothing." Whenever I remember him, it feels like being cut by a sharp knife I've kept hidden in my pocket. Yet I love this knife. I love its worn wooden handle, which I carved myself out of sweet smelling cedar. 

So you keep trying to go where you think the love is. That might be my favorite thing about you. I'll be home soon. Wait for me there. I promise.