The Language of a Smile
I was waiting for the bus this morning when an older man stopped to ask for the time. He didn't have a watch, and I didn't have a reason to rush, so we ended up talking about the weather for a few minutes. He had these deep lines around his…
The Quiet Way We Change
I have been thinking about the way we hold onto things that are already halfway out the door. We watch the seasons turn, expecting a sudden crash, but change is rarely that loud. It is a slow, quiet shedding—a softening of edges, a turning…
The Quiet Visitor
I spent most of this morning staring at the frost patterns on my kitchen window. I had a list of things to do, but the cold made me feel heavy, so I just stayed put with my tea. It is funny how we spend so much time looking for big adventures,…