The Rhythm of Summer

When I was at the beach this weekend for an evening walk, I admitted out loud that if I should have to leave the coast for any reason in the future, I would really miss it. I would miss the soft ocean air and the salty tacky water as I walked lazily between the waves, sand between my toes.

This surprised even me a little. I used to think I was a mountain girl. I probably am, in all honesty. Being surrounded by trees does something to me. But recently, I have noticed a magnetic pull to the beach. Perhaps its the warmer temps. Or maybe 2 solid months of being locked inside has really done it (who’s with me here!). But the ocean does something to my very core. It’s rhythm and textures make my heart feel comforted and calm in the same way that the rhythmic swaying of a new mom can soothe a crying baby.

I think need the beach in my soul...like the air I breathe and the food I eat and the water I drink. I have heard people say things like “I don’t like how sand feels in my (feet/clothes/hair/etc).” Or “The salt water is so itchy.” Or even “I don’t like swimming in water I can’t see through.” All valid reasons, I suppose. But these are the very things I crave… the evidence of time spent by the sea. The prickly heat of the summer sun on my salty skin, cheeks flushed with too much time on the water’s edge, faces tacky from the hot and humid air. The feeling of those sandy feet washed off in makeshift showers…always with a little sand left behind on your shoes or swimsuit. It’s just all part of the feeling… of connecting with it all.

Maybe it’s not that I prefer the mountains to the sea. Maybe it’s just that I love being outside, fresh air in my lungs, sun on my cheeks, and me breathing in all this beautiful world has to offer.

So for now, I will lean in for now to these beach days. I will embrace watching each unique sunset, warm salty air on my skin, that gentle sway that mother nature has me cleaved to her chest, swaying back and forth gently into that rhythm of summer once again.

Robbed.

This was not the senior post I wanted to do…

These seniors have been robbed of memories and experiences they will never get back. No more lunch room laughs. No more proms. No graduation ceremony. It's gone...with a virus that has changed our lives forever.

Movies have been made about what it's like to be a senior in high school....TV shows written.... Books penned. We all remember these days. I can still recall what it was like to graduate that day in the hot, Charleston May sun - white dress and flowers laid across my lap, a small audience of people fanning themselves with programs.

This boy has spent so much time working so hard on so many things these past 4 years. He has transformed himself - mind and body. He took his grades from okay to straight As over the course of a month and never looked back. He became a shy rugby player to a fit and stong captain of his team. He became confident and capable and trustworthy of friends, teachers, and adults with parents of his friends calling on him in confidence more than once to help find answers. He became a leader – someone to rely on, strong and kind, empathetic and level-headed. A rare combination in a teenage boy.

I am so sad for my child. While I join you in your grief that school is done for the year here, it is not for the same reasons of despising homeschooling or feeling trapped in my home with kids. Instead, I will be mourning the loss of innocence and experience that comes with these final weeks of school for my boy...no graduation, no prom, no final match. I will hurt along side him over the friends and teachers he will never get to high five in the halls again, relationships that disappear to circumstance rather than choice. And I will mourn the loss of seeing him lead his rugby team this season on the pitch, something he worked so hard for that was taken away far too soon.

There’s more to his story of loss and strength than what I have written here. He has seen things that have changed him completely and done things adults I know haven’t even faced. He is wise beyond his years and experienced beyond fair measure for a child this age.

I know he will go on to do great things. He already has and it's inside of him. But to be honest, I am tired of his innocence being taken away over and over again too early. I am tired of his story having to accommodate the world rather that to world accommodating his kind, huge heart, and strong, loving soul.

To all the seniors, you are loved and we are all so proud. I am sorry this is your story.

Now let's all go out and change the ending to this chapter.

Spaciousness

Space.

I am looking for some space to clear my head these days. Clear my lungs.

I seek it everywhere. At my desk. On my back porch. Near the water. In the quiet of my bedroom. I need space. Air so full it washes over me like a waterfall - powerful and full of life.

So each day right now, I come here seeking that release… that special moment. Each day I come here to this very spot to find some sanity in this crazy, mixed up time. Hoping for the winds of change to speak to me.

__________

You see, I was healed here once before. My heart heavy with grief and fear, I walked this lonely mile every day wondering if life would get better. Each day, I made silent prayers to the universe that this, too, would pass and that one day, I would wake up and things would be bright again. Each day I seemingly got a message that life, indeed, does go on: a family of foxes playing in the grass; a bobcat resting in the shade, dolphins leaping out of the water, tails splashing; a pack of deer crossing right in front of me; an owl perched on a branch so obviously watching us, it gave me chills; blossoming jasmine; the scent in the air dripping heavy with honeysuckle. Life was there. Every day. It kept proving itself to me.

I kept showing up. Noticing things. Breathing in that fresh air I so desperately needed. The first days were hard. I felt like I had cinder blocks attached to me, to my heart. I dragged them behind like anchors weighing down my soul along with all the years of love and loss and pain and heartbreak I had gathered in those bags around my heart. I lost a sister, a mother, a father. I lost a family , an identity, a lover - all these things once knitted together, now frayed at the edges, torn apart by life.

But it was that air that kept me coming back. Full in my lungs. Clean. New. Blowing out the old, toxic air…the toxic thoughts. The grief and sorrow all washed away by the spaciousness I created.

_________

In the face of this time, I am admittedly not doing well. This stuff is hard. It’s scary. I feel the same anxiousness I did before, darkness seeping into my soul like the night stealing away light, forceful and stronger than me. But I know the light will chase away the darkness soon enough. Night always yields to day. The wind blows the old away, making room for new seeds to germinate.

The thing is that I know where to find the wind, the spaciousness I seek. I know it’s there. I just have to be patient and wait for it to come once again.

What is to come...

I want to watch the sunrise and the moon set with you. Beside me. Beside the sea. Holding hands, melting into the dreams we have for the future.

I want to wake up early, before dawn, making coffee. Routines in place, the rhythm of life present in our days, in our nights. In our hearts.

I want to love you where you are and be loved as I am. Wholly. Completely. Unapologetically.

Let’s blow away the dust of yesterday with the fresh sunshine of today on our faces, whole-hearted love in our souls. Doubt, fear, worry behind us for the pleasure of what is to come.

A Purposeful Life

I took this photo about a year ago on a clear and crisp May evening at Folly Beach. It was one of those days that you realize the promise of summer is coming, gently at first…and then, without warning, it’s in like a lion.

Like many of us are now realizing, I took this and many other of my days for granted. I took my proximity to the beach for granted. I could, after all, go anytime I wanted to. My freedom to move around this planet on a whim was something I thought rarely about, if ever at all. What a luxury.

But now, I sit in my quarantined life on this gorgeous April day. The sun is shining and temperatures are climbing to the mid 80s this afternoon, creeping slowly into a reminder that summer is around the corner. Today is a perfect day to sit with my toes in the sand and breath in the fresh sea air. It’s just the kind of day I would be planning a picnic with friends, walking down the beach holding hands with my guy, or even heading there alone to be in stillness.

I miss the sea. I never thought about not having access to it much before. But I miss it. I want to breathe in the fresh, cottony air in my lungs and feel it wrap around my skin like cool summer sheets. I want to be itchy with salt and sand and sunburn on my shoulders. I want to hear the gulls squawk around me as they scavenge for the little scraps of food and crumbs we drop.

If there is anything this time has taught me, it’s that I want to live simply again, but with purpose. I want to live in the moments I took for granted with the people I assumed would always be there. I want to remember what actually matters. Freedom. Joy. Relationships. And good health.

Most of all, I just want my life to be purposeful - lived with love and simple pleasures.

Falling to pieces

Yesterday, I was falling to pieces.

Literally couldn’t pick myself up off the ground and motivate to do anything positive whatsoever in the face of this virus that has made the world come to a screeching halt on every conceivable level. Every moment was spent ladled in doubt, depression and doom. “What ifs…” were plaguing me with paralyzing fear on a level that I haven’t experienced in quite a while.

As I sat frozen and helpless in the dining room, these flowers I gathered last week caught my eye. For they, too, were falling to pieces.

I wondered if it hurt them to fall apart like that. I wondered if they felt it in their core like I did yesterday. I also wondered if they felt a bit of levity after their release and that things were calmer, lighter, easier.

I slowly started coming apart at the seams then. And I allowed myself it to happen. Everything was hard. I sat in my room, tears trailing down my cheeks in the most horrifically familiar pattern. I have been here before in this virtual prison, mired in the depths of despair and doom. It feels like what I imagine it is to be buried alive. Suffocating. Heavy. Deep and thick like the pluff mud at the end of my street. I couldn’t bear to let anyone see me that afraid and vulnerable. So I stayed there motionless, curled in a ball in my room, crying into the pillows, wondering how I would make it out of yet another hole of despair on my own again.

Then came the words everyone needs when they are grieving: “But you don’t have to…that’s what this is….that’s what we are to each other…I am here if you need me.”

Those words were like water to my weary soul. Gentle and cool. Soft. Kind.

That’s what we need right now. Gentleness. Kindness. Love.

---

I feel okay today. But I have been busy fixing things and baking more things (so much baking). I know enough about myself to know that this is a wave – just like yesterday was a wave and just like tomorrow will bring even MORE adventures. I am glad I have so many people to help cushion this blow right now and for that, I am humbly grateful.

For now, I will try to stay present and believe what is true RIGHT NOW. Right now, I have food to eat and a roof over my head. Right now is all we have. And right now is all I am focused on…no matter what that looks like.

This, too, shall pass.

This is what spring is supposed to feel like. Hopeful. Light. Bright. Colorful. And most of all, optimistic.

Instead, here we are, smack dab in the middle of a global crisis. GLOBAL. This isn’t just happening in our little worlds. It’s affecting everyone…everywhere. Lives are transforming daily because of this horrific situation.

It’s hard to find hope in this space we have landed in. It’s hard to look up and say - we’ve got this… Especially when our most basic of needs are being threatened on a massive level (seriously though, what’s with all the toilet paper hoarding?!?!). None of this is controllable. The only thing we can do to control it is to stay home, stay put, and stop the spread of the virus.

So I’ve been trying to do survive right now one day at a time. “What is true today? In this hour? In this moment?” These are questions I ask myself hourly right now. “What is real and honest? And what can I actually DO?”

Sometimes it’s as simple as taking a deep breath. Other moments I am talking myself off a ledge of despair because this all seems so big and overwhelming in so many ways. Honestly, I am just trying to be present and calm. I stay busy. I feed the people I love. I work hard at coming up with what’s next for work and life. I dream a little. And I make it through another day.

We all process stuff so differently. And this pandemic certainly has made me aware of that personally and with those that I love the most. I have watched my normally effervescent, joyful child become depressed as he is robbed of his senior year in high school. No prom. No final rugby games. No senior skip day. Nothing but the trauma of something he doesn’t understand presented with no options or end in sight. All the parts you look forward to all of high school - and dare I say most of his life - are completely gone for him. And that’s only a small consequence to the greater picture we are all dealing with right now like loss of jobs, loss of income, and, in some cases, loss of lives so precious to us.

All I can do is sit and be present with what is. I am not trying to negotiate my way out of it, but lean in to the fact that this is where I am. This is where we are. This is what is. And that this, too, shall pass.

Sending love and light to all that need it.

The Sweet Stuff

I am digging into the sweet stuff…searching for the delicious parts right now. Those bitter parts, the salty bites, the ones that are too hot or too cold or not quite right will all come soon enough. But while I am here in the middle of the sweet spot, I will celebrate and sink in.

Because life is too delicious to pass this part by.

Letting joy take the wheel

Recently I was asked about why I haven’t been writing as much lately.

I wish I had a good answer for that. But I don’t. My heart has been a little lighter these days. And writing for me is therapeutic. It has served for these recent years as a way out of the cave of despair. So these days, I have been a little less inspired - so to speak. While I wait for inspiration, my writing is taking on a new voice…one that is a little brighter and lighter.

Oddly, this feels cumbersome and uncomfortable, like an ill fitting pair of underwear you constantly need to adjust. I almost feel like I need to apologize for it.

What.In.The.World??? Where did THAT notion come from?

Where does this notion of joy equate with something I need to make amends for right now? Do we get that message from our parents at a young age? How do we internalize not being worthy of JOY?

I am not sure how to steer the car with confidence riding shotgun instead of that smug bitch, fear, sitting in the front seat controlling and questioning my every move. I am used to the commands she makes and insecurities she dishes out… always making me apologize for myself and suggesting that in some ways, I have gotten what I deserved.

A little joy is a terrifying thing for me. I sit waiting and wondering when it will all come crashing down again. Sitting with joy often makes me feel like I am waiting for the other shoe to drop. She makes me uncomfortable in her kindness.

So while I wait, and wonder, (and perhaps schedule an appointment with my therapist), I will just keep working on how to lose those feelings of Doubt and Fear along this long stretch of highway. I will keep being myself…writing and taking photos along the way. Holding hands and settling in to my new relationship with Joy whenever I can.

While I am here, I will be certain to drive happily by those hitchhikers, Fear and Uncertainty, on the side of the road…not a thought of stopping at the mere sight of them. I’ll have no guilt for speeding by this time. They’ve been in this car on this very stretch of road with me before and honestly, they are horrible passengers.

I am ready

A quick story.

On a visit to the upstate, we were coming back from a quick grocery store trip and I suddenly yelled to my sweet, obliging driver “PULL OVER!”

“Really?”

“Yes. I want to take a picture.”

This is a repeated story in my life. Only, up until a few months ago, I didn’t really do it. I just wanted to.

I have spent most of my life trying to live small. I was afraid - afraid of inconveniencing everyone around me, afraid of being too high maintenance, afraid of having needs and wants.

I am not sure what to attribute to this newfound confidence and voice. Is it a new relationship that has me seeing things differently - including myself (or rather, especially myself)? Is it my ripening age? Or is it that I have finally had it with putting my life on hold? Whatever the reasons, I am happy to speak my needs and shout out for the opportunities that have so often passed me by fields on a country backroad.

So many things whiz by you when you don’t speak up. Jobs. Love. Even simple photos of old, decaying barns that perhaps I just want. Living small is just not worth it. I have paused my life for so many people and I am ready, finally, to live for myself.

I am ready…finally.

Jennifer

This one…

She has been standing by my side through this life with me for a while now…about 30+ years if I am doing the math right. Our friendship has outlasted careers and bad boyfriends, life and death, and even distance and proximity. There have been years I wouldn’t have made it through without her friendship, or her unyielding support. Her love is the perfect blended cocktail of strength and kindness for my thirsty soul.

She knows so much about me, often more than I can admit about myself. She listens to everything - and I mean EVERYTHING - that I am going through without batting an eye at the minuscule details I seem to cover. She calmly holds space for me in times of grief and patiently waits for me to come through whatever fog life has put in my path, always gently guiding me where I need to be.

But I think there are things she doesn’t know sometimes - like how much her texts mean to me each day or how strongly I value her opinion. She doesn’t know that I realize she almost single-handedly got me to actually pursue photography again after years of putting the camera down. It was this girl that held me up when I was falling apart a few short years ago in ways I can’t begin to express my gratitude for. And it is her that reminds me almost daily that I am worthy of so much more than what I ask for.

And here we are…her special day. A monumental occasion.

So, how do you celebrate a human that is this special to you on a day this special to them?

Candy? Balloons? A Party? A blog post? Nothing seems to fit this occasion. It all seems like an ill-fitting pair of cheap shoes that are wrong for the event. Too tight, stiff and awkward.

What I can do is share with you that I have hit the jackpot of friendships. What I can say is that she means more to me that she will ever comprehend. What I can tell you is that my gratitude for her unyielding support is immeasurable and undefinable.

Mostly though, what I can do is try to show her the same friendship, kindness and support she has shown me over these 30 years. What I can do it hold space for her as she continues to grow into the human she is meant to be - creative, kind, talented, smart, thoughtful, and generous with all of her.

Happy Birthday, my friend. May all your birthday wishes come true.

xox

.

2019

Here we are…2020. And I am just now getting around to reflecting on the past year.

Last year was BIG…capital B-I-G. I mean that in so many ways, too. Not just professionally speaking.

As many years go, I felt a tremendous amount of growth, both personally and professionally. My life seems to be taking shape into something I had always hoped for in so many ways. WHOOP WHOOP! I have been a full time, self-employed photographer and designer FOR 18 YEARS NOW! That’s nothing to sneeze at.

This year felt more focused and found some clarity along the way. I nailed down some amazing jobs…and experienced some awesome work and new client relationships. It was a year I worked hard for things I wanted desperately and a year I consciously stepped away from some experiences that weren’t serving me. Lessons were learned. And life went on.

So here is a sprinkling of what went down this past year. A little of everything - food and families, weddings and wine events, and a lot of hard work and growth.

Here’s to gratitude for amazing endings and fresh new beginnings, to living and learning, and to loving what you do. Happy New Year everyone!

82 Queen

Charleston Wine + Food Festival

Charleston Shop Curator @ Freshfields Village

Bjork Family shoot

Plate South - Strata

Mr. + Mrs. Wilson

Skirt Charleston

Skirt Charleston - Giving Thanks.

The Buencaminos for Vineyard Vines

Lyn Tally

The Barbers

Porter-Gaud Magazine

Giving Thanks article for Skirt.

Poe Family Shoot

Restaurant Tu

Tu - Interior shot

Plate South - Strawberry Rhubarb Crumble

Walker Family shoot

Lewis Barbecue for Charleston Magazine

Women in Construction for Skirt Magazine.

Women and Bruce @ The Charleston Music Hall

A New Year

We all seem ready to usher out last year right now. I have been seeing more about the change of the decade this year than I can ever remember before now…2020 seems to be the hope that we are all clinging on to in this firestorm of life.

That seems like a lot of pressure though…giving a whole set of unrealistic expectations and demands that it can’t live up to.

Don’t get me wrong… I get needing hope. I get wanting change. While I have had some bad years, this wasn’t one of them. But I have been ready to boot years to the curb. I have felt pain and grief and loss like you cannot even imagine. I have dealt with personal struggle that should have made me quit the game of life long ago. But here I am standing at the end of this year reflecting on what magic has become because I somehow managed to make it further along in my little story.

In all those bad years and in all the time that I was trying to heal myself, I never leaned heavily on the year or decade ahead to get me through it all. That’s a lot of expectation for something that may not be able to deliver. The work came from me. Facing it. Trudging through it all. Doing the work. Showing up. It was on my shoulders…nothing else could help me but Me.

While I love the concept of a fresh start on New Year’s Day, I am not keen on the pressure and responsibility we seem to be handing over to it - especially at the turn of a new decade. It seems particularly heavy and destructive. It’s almost like handing keys to a toddler and saying “go ahead and drive this car for me.”

So this year on New Year’s Eve, instead of remarking about what I am looking forward to and running towards, I will gently tell 2019 “Thank you for the lessons, both big and small. I am grateful for what you taught me.”

I am ready for your lessons 2020. Let’s do this.

Finding my way

A few years ago, my brother-in-law had a massive stroke. This stroke wasn’t caused by poor lifestyle choices or a genetic predisposition to strokes, but rather due to a genetic malformation in his brain that, up until the age of around 45, he was pretty unaware of.

What I found most curious about his condition was that he was born without some major arteries in his brain. To compensate, his body made up peripheral arteries to make up for this faulty wiring and he lived pretty much unscathed and healthy for years on end and continues to do so.

The magic of the human body never ceases to amaze me. It finds ways to do the things it needs to, regardless of imperfections and flaws in the system.

Nature seems to be the same way. Water gets to where it needs to. Seeds plant themselves and grow in places they aren’t always intended to. Life always seems to find a way.

Next time you are struggling, remember the water that makes it’s own path after deliberate work. Remember the seeds that seem to grow in the cracks of the cement out of sheer determination. Remember that this, too, shall pass and life will go on as it should.

Magical shoots

Recently someone commented to me about my photos being so spontaneous. Then they asked “how do you get people to DO that?”

Honestly, the answer for me has always been, “I don’t!”

I don’t work on posing clients. I never have. What I do work on is building relationships with my client to put them at ease. That means taking the time to listen to them. That means not watching the clock. That means chatting and playing more than I shoot.

These people invest money in a shoot that will provide memories forever. FOR.E.VER. So, it’s important to me that they look like their authentic selves in the shoot. Happy, relaxed, and joyful.

Wouldn’t it be great if EVERY business, EVERY relationship we approached has this mentality. Wouldn’t it be great if your dentist or accountant was concerned about how you feel in such a stressful situation. I know I would approach things differently if I sat down at my accountants office and she asked how my family was, what was new, or what I planned to do in the coming year. It builds trust. It puts us at ease.

And when people are at ease with me… Well, that’s when the magic happens.

'Tis the Season

I have been noticeably absent these days around here. My blogs, instagram, and facebook accounts have all taken a huge hit. And it’s with good reason. Life has swept me up in it’s wake.

Sometimes (more often over the past few years) when this happens, it’s due to some really hard times. Dealing with the death of my parents, my sister, and life somehow all seemed to overshadow so much in my life. I slid into the dark side of depression and anxiety and didn’t know how to get out.

But recently, I have reason to be joyful…or maybe that’s just how aIl see it all now. A few things turned around for me this year which brought some tremendous joy into my life. But truth be told, the rest of my life hasn’t changed. I still grieve the loss of my parents every now and again. I still struggle some months with the balance of work and life. I still have a fully grown, driving, teenager who is soon to be on the way out the door. So why couldn’t I see my life with joy before? Why does one change in life change the filter at which we look through the rest our lives? Why can’t life just show us pleasure no matter what juncture we are at?

I have been thinking about this each morning as I sit here under the Christmas lights, taking in the meaning of the season. Whether you practice Christianity or not, I think we can all agree that pausing in gratitude and with love for what we DO have is what this time of year is about.

So for now, I will sit under the Christmas tree that hasn’t been switched off since I put it up and feel gratitude for all the things I have… a warm home, some delicious food in my fridge, a healthy family, and a whole lotta love to give.

Rooted

Like seeds on some random wind, life takes us in unpredictable turns. We land partially where we intend, partially in the forest that we started in, and partially through the fate of where the winds take us.

The first thing that seed does, though, is dig down. It creates roots. A holding space…footing to carry it through so it can grow and blossom and flourish. But if the roots are not started first, dug deep below the surface, that plant will die. It needs support for growth. It needs to ground down in order to shoot up.

Once started though, those roots weave complex patterns for survival - digging into the earth with lifelines to feed and nurture their souls. They weave in between surround tree roots merging into them and becoming one complex pattern together, supporting each other as they work together to become one big complicated pattern of trees and leaves and shade, all supportive of life here on earth.

But it’s the roots that hold the the tree as it sways under the seasons and change. When the roots are deep enough, the tree sways, but always remains fed and nurtured. The roots bring it support, life.

I am interested in my own roots right now - what nurtures my soul, what keeps me going, where I get fed the most so I can support myself through the seasons of change that I see ahead. What is it that I need? What is it that supports me? What is it that brings life-giving nutrients to my soul? This is where my focus goes when I need more - not the parts that aren’t getting enough, but what brings me the things I do need.

For me, it comes back to the basics every time: Getting still. Deep listening. Completely nurturing my body and soul. And a calm and deep love for myself - as I am, where I am, and who I am.

Every day, we dig a little deeper with those roots means that every moment we can grow a little fuller.

As tall as the trees...

Protect me. Shield me. Nurture me.

Let me breathe life back into my tired soul in your presence. Let me roam wild through your roots. Let me lean on you when I need rest and use you for my strength.

Let me be with you always, listening to the rustle of your whispers through the winds, always telling me things will be okay…that I am okay.

Let me learn from you as you bend and sway, but never break, even when you are weary from what life is tossing you. Let me bow to the nature of you.

But never ever let me take any of it for granted…this love for you that is as tall as the trees and as wide as the seas.

Supporting Skies

I almost discarded this photo on my phone today. Scrolling around for memories, I stumbled across this subtle, washed out photo in a sea of dramatic sunrise shots. I was out for a walk during a moody August sunrise at Folly Beach, the sky playing dramatic tricks on me with each passing second. It felt true to my mood at the time. The sky was stormy, but the light was not having it. The sunrise came out to play that day. But this little Southern sky was playing nothing but a supporting role in the morning.

I stopped moments before I hit the delete button, because despite it’s humble appearance amidst conspicuously gorgeous and fire laden sunrise skies, this photo stunned me with it’s simplicity. The hued blue-grey color palette with it’s subtle pinkish, creamy accent seemed so forgotten. It seemed to fight for attention and it’s own role.

It got me thinking about how we overlook situations like this. Sometimes we are so busy looking at the dramatic sunrise that we overlook the subtle, supporting skies. Much like we don’t notice that mom in the audience as her son takes center stage in a starring role. We forgetting that she, too, has a key role here. She provided support, meals, comfort and endless hours as he honed his skills, making magic for the rest of us. We tend to forget the ones in a supporting role, the ones who support that big, massive, shining star.

But maybe that’s okay too, because that sunrise won’t be looking at me while it makes it’s way through the morning sky. It will look directly at the billowing clouds that allowed it to take center stage.

And that is enough.

Into the light...

“What are you looking for? “

“You…my love. I have been looking for you.”

And they walked away, fingers forever entertwined, forging a whole new path together led by their brave and fragile hearts.