My hope hangs in threads. I been walking around this world for a while now, hoping.
I’m a widow. My children are grown, and they’ve raised their families.
I sit alone in this house, thinking.
One day it’ll be my time to go and meet my Maker. For now, I sit in my kitchen and drink my sugary coffee.
I look over at the pictures of the young me: so bright, so fiery, so beautiful. I was going to change the world.
What really happened was the world and I changed each other.
As I infused my truth into the Universe, it would expand a little, making room for me. When it made room for me, I learned a little more about it. …