It’s happened. Another year has tipped over to the next and despite the fanfare and vast spreads of foods and other heraldry, we mostly find ourselves easing back into the same worn shoes, the same ill-fitting bra, the same car we never found the time to wash and the same work-dreams that made our nights fitful before the holiday season.
A friend posted this on their Facebook page, and I felt a wave of relief, or comfort, or perhaps of Wendell’s gentle arm across my shoulder. I love poems that do that. They don’t ask for much of our time. They only grip us tightly for a moment, like a hug, just to remind you of our shared humanity; that you are not alone, ever, in your journey.
