…I can picture you getting on the floor, eye level with them as toddlers…
I wondered if the fixed smile–as I perceived it–wasn’t also a wince from hurt carried constantly conscious. Inescapable.
It’s the kind of fortitude and okayness that come only from soaking up the outpouring from a ripped open heart.
Love is a mess of romance and compassion. Compassion can remain.
After a son-to-father preface, list of 11 best free videos of the carol
Frolicking in the tranquil stillness of nature’s own blanket…whispering at the wonder… serene scene’s quiet beauty