Mommy loves to tell the story of the day I was born. As soon as I was all cleaned up and looking beautiful, they handed me to my Daddy. Of course, I was yelling my fool head off as babies tend to do. He smiled, patted my rear, and snuggled me close.
Writing on the blog is deeply personal. I imagine I sit you down, offer you tea, hold your hand and look you in the eyes. Whilst you may read this and throw it away, or never think of it again, I think of it every day. The power of you sitting with me, and giving me space to share my thoughts.
I lay in the sun, and saw a spider. It was a tiny smudge against the blue. Long, desperate webs trailed from its body like a single stitch that bore witness to the little life hurtling through the sky. Rather than fix him in a physical place, this web stitched the spider into my mind. I often come back to him.