the dormancy in winter allows the seed to fortify itself to be born in the coming spring…

days into weeks, and weeks into months….

the time is meaningless…it is what we do, or don’t, that matters….

i miss it here, these pages, the time i take to write and process, to acknowledge, to mourn, and to celebrate with words the existance i have.

i have been distracted of late with trivial things, and changes not so trivial, with letting go getting mixed up with holding on… and with finding love, an imperfect love that has become a warm coat… a love that begs to be explored, to be given the chance to develop, to grow and evolve, as those who share it do the same..and in that place of tentativeness, of awkward burgeoning, the baggage of old gets to be unpacked once more….this time removing even more un-needed items….

and i miss those who touch my life by reading my words and by sharing theirs….

the dormancy of winter is a necessary thing…. spring would not exist as it does otherwise….

i promise to not be away so long again….

j.