Grief is upon me today. It accompanied me down the stairs into the kitchen. I looked out the window and saw the hawk; in the tree hiding in the foggy damp air.
Grief appears like the hawk did, without warning, and sneaky.
The grief I feel is not one thing, like the fog it is many things. Wet and damp everywhere, I try to wipe it off but find another spot. I sit down and the place I sit is wet and heavy.
Then I learn, if I wait, the sun will find me. Warm me up, fill me with light, give me some sense of where I am, who I am. The sun will come eventually, but I must wait. Today I wait.
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