This week of travel was exhausting. No planes, no timezone change, and no real physical exertion. But I’m pooped. And sad. Word arrived that an old friend has died. I’ve already been holding too much grief. Another life lost too soon, with a young boy mourning his mother. This living and dying thing is tender business.
Today we traveled over miles of beautiful terrain, so stunning and alive with green and flowers and fruit. Breathtaking beauty that somehow raises the stakes of tenderness to a heartbreaking level.
So I am not celebrating April Fools, or even giving a normal level of happy thanks for the return of baseball. I’m home with my heart – feeling the waves of sorrow and joy in life woven fine.
Writing Prompt: The colors of my memory….