I find love notes on the kitchen counter, he drew hearts and goofy smiley faces along the margins.
The music spun around the metta prayer fills the house, I step out on the balcony letting the sound slip out into the early morning
(Music: In These Arms by Jennifer Berezan and company)
Someone I love has a broken heart, the kind that comes from loving fiercely in a world where that kind of love is uncommon.
Two men that I adore celebrate their love for one another today with flowers and all the sweet and mushy Valentine trimmings.
My neighbor sits alone by the pool. He sips his coffee then tips his head back to rest on the back of the lounge chair. I see his chest rise in a deep breath, I hear the faint sigh as he lets it go.
I look out over the complex to see all the windows and doors that lead into people’s lives. The one with the lavender curtains, the one whose blinds are always drawn closed, the one with the Unicorn stickers and blurry prints left by chubby little hands.
A blank canvas waits for me to lavish it with color. That makes me happy.
I get teary remembering an old friend that no longer understands me.
Back inside I slowly roll out my yoga mat to offer prayers with my body.
Sweetness and heartbreak live side by side.
“The light on the hill is full of mercy …” Yes.
Much love to you all.
May you be happy.
May you be safe.
May you be free.