Thursday, July 21, 2016
To Good Friends
My soul gets full on your stories. Fat and happy like a baby without a care for the bystanders peering through the glass at this great thing we have. And there are many of us, collected carefully, considered in as many angles as chance and recklessness and careful planning could forge. This is the thing I have. These are my precious gifts, handled like blown glass or like tempered steel. I have never thought myself lucky, except in this. It has taken all the luck, and is welcome to it, to keep these things alive. Some folks just fill us up. Make us feel lucky to have happened upon them, and hope to make it forever.