Skipped church this morning in favor of coffee on the cliff, out by the telescope platform in the glorious rare morning wind. The telescope has been brought inside for the season, and we're slowly winterizing. I'm so glad I don't live in the prairies right now as they seem to be running a disaster gamut of fires, floods and freezing. It's the price they pay for that endless sky, for sure and even though it's cheap to live there I know I'll never go back.
The waves are huge. The clouds roll and he remains, clutching my hand in his, against his chest, keeping me tripping over his feet and being the only thing in my current tiny universe.
Instead of winterizing the property, he's working from the inside out, tightening bonds, battening down hatches, patching any holes in our relationship, strengthening the weak spots, the openings, the ennui, making things tight and fierce and able to withstand the coming storm, procuring provisions, weapons and shelter. I'm helping as much as he can, gently letting souls down, passing him tools, being open to being closed. I know what he's doing and I think it's going to work.
I hope it's going to work.
The waves are huge. The clouds roll and he remains, clutching my hand in his, against his chest, keeping me tripping over his feet and being the only thing in my current tiny universe.
Instead of winterizing the property, he's working from the inside out, tightening bonds, battening down hatches, patching any holes in our relationship, strengthening the weak spots, the openings, the ennui, making things tight and fierce and able to withstand the coming storm, procuring provisions, weapons and shelter. I'm helping as much as he can, gently letting souls down, passing him tools, being open to being closed. I know what he's doing and I think it's going to work.
I hope it's going to work.