And it was cool, and dank, and the air was thick with it.
The clouds lay low like in Scotland, and the air was full of tumult and movement.
Life lately, too. This week, tears have come as comfort, and in the thickness of the days, and the sorrow of earth, hope has bounded up still. On top of the movement of life—the tensions, the conversations, the loss, the laughs—up has bounded this small parcel which can’t be avoided. Joy.
It opened before me as my cousin’s uncontrolled smile at the end of the wedding aisle. The sounds of bagpipes and waves again. Green. This week—the visit of a lovely friend who brought grace and walks with beauty. Papery things at Anthropologie. The swirls of peach must in the grocer, and white bowls full of berries. My nephews little voice on the when I told him of a real hook and ladder. Some splendid ice cream that tasted like toasty marshmallows—savoured on the roof with Scrabble. A violin in the hot subway, lifting us out into it again.
It comes each morning in his hugs, his hold, his voice full of love when I leave for work.
Into the end of June, in joy.
p.s. Thing New Yorkers are loving right now? Umbrellas. The lightning nearly cracker Brooklyn off Long Island this morning!