Red

The days grow brighter. Some mornings I believe all will be well (if I only glance sideways at the news). If I rest my gaze on my girls who grow solid in their centers. They show me themselves. They rest in knowing I like them. If I only glance here, I think hooray—we are doing it!

When I think about what makes this grace possible, there’s a pile of ancestors behind us; a slate of interviews regarding child development that live in my head. Look: there’s a meditation expert next to my own intuition. And my husband. The list: it goes on and on, there’s nothing simple about it.

That’s how I think about the news, too. There’s nothing simple about hatred allowed to grow up like weeds. The seeds were planted long a go.

Can I hold these two thoughts at once? Not today. All I know is the cactus is blooming We waited, we occasionally watered, we watched. The red has arrived.

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