Epiphany.

As I lift the heavy lawnmower into the trunk by myself again (not so confident this time, not as easy), I suddenly know where the mysterious long bruise on my leg came from.

Here's to not waiting for help. Here's to the bruises I can explain and the ones I can't. Here's to my headache. Here's to my misery, looming just overhead, like the stones in the doorway.

"Sometimes you just can't help who you love," she said to me as I peeled the potatoes. "And sometimes you just have to learn to love them from afar," she continued from the sink filled with dishes. The meal was meant to impress. The words to leave their mark. 

Dear Middle-of-the-night Drive Home,

Thank you for allowing me clarity and relaxation. Thank you for the deer you allowed me to see in the city. Thank you for providing such clear thoughts and pure intentions as only felt when I am with you. Thank you for the cool breeze and stars bright.

Sincerely,
Kamlah

I would like to salute my (super) hero. Thank you super glue for giving my shoes new life (even if some of you is still stuck to my thumb)!

Midnight showing of "The Goonies" this weekend?

YES, please! :)