These words on lit pages, are the lenitive balm to my cracked, worn, weary soul.
Day three.I ran three miles today, tears streaming down my cheeks, my lungs gasping, chest tightly filled with emotion.It’s been 48 hours since I forced myself to leave the perceived safety of my home. Anxiety. Tears. Irrational fear. I’m one mile from my doorstep. One mile between me…
I was eleven. I remember because it was the summer my mom had her second hand surgery. Her eyes less watchful by day, distracted with her painful recovery. I had just gotten a new-to-me, ancient, hand me…
