Count them, one, two, three, four, five. My sister trying to whistle using a blade of grass. Could she be any more hippie?
I can get absorbed for hours in looking through unpublished posts and re-discovering photos. These were from May of several years ago: before Wales, before Roan, before working two jobs and being diagnosed with fibromyalgia. But I'm not gonna say what you think I'm gonna say: that "everything has changed." Not on the surface, anyway. The rhythms and loves and the aspirations are the same as ever. This sweet, sort of desperate attempt at daily living is still strived for, always not quite finished, always looking forward over the horizon to what tomorrow brings.
But I can definitely say that each day and each year I grow a little bit in peace. And that's my favorite thing, by far.
Linking up with Jenna for {Five Favorites}.
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