I threw some rocks at your window

But you didn’t come down.

I tried to climb your rainspout,

but only succeeded in gashing my hand.

The silence told me everything I needed to know:

your ringers off, your eyes averted, your heart closed.

Mine bursts with possibility –

I will walk through open doors.

open doors

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my bright

Today is your birthday. You were too young to leave. And I’m not sure where you went. Or if I’ll see you there, but…

my bright

today is your birthday. A time for celebration and thanks. You are my inspiration to be stronger and laugh harder. You shift the shadows.

Thank you, my bright.

the gift of a migraine

Writing about perspective gymnastics yesterday, I had no idea that a migraine today would help my challenge of the week to focus on what’s going right in my life. Thanks, serendipity! There’s nothing like intense pain to help you appreciate the little things.

sunglassesI now revere the simple act of going about my day without the urge to use a wine opener for self-trephination. And how fabulous am I, writing with sunglasses on? (yes, I know I can dim my computer screen, but I like to make pain more chic). As well as greater light sensitivity, my heightened sense of smell is kind of like a superhero power.

I can smell flowers through the window, and know you only applied one coat of antiperspirant this morning. So instead of whingeing about the explosions inside my skull, I’m appreciating the gift of a migraine.