Sometimes even when we work really hard, shit crumbles. Don't we know that.
Sometimes, or rather, other times, we settle and shake and shift our lives down to fit perfectly in the space (and time) we have arranged around us. Those are lucky times. Good and favored and take-a-big-breath times. Those days end with sun in our hair. We rest in the easiness.
I want to say I'm sorry to you. This is not the way we all imagined it. Please forgive the universe for the unlucky.
Let your mouth sing praises, in hope.
I love you.
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