Francesco, only lived in his mother's womb for 5 months, grew to be a fire tree that now reaches the roof of our house. The morning sun shines on it brilliantly. In the afternoon, the hot summer air accompanies those thin branches and tiny leaves to a dance.
Wednesday, May 12, 2021
Smaller and Smaller Stories
You're 38 now, Jairus. Belated Happy Birthday. And we've whined, bragged and sometimes genuinely wrote about what's been happening to us for almost 25 years. There should be enough to recur on. How stubbornly should we be to endure? I have a suspicion, or perhaps a good clue that would help me figure out what we're really feeling at this point.
I am tired. Specifically, of myself.
