There is nothing better than a windy day. One that arrives, with almost, too-much-force. Disheveling hair. Opening the door of my soul. Stealing the sound of my laughter like a game of hide and seek. Whipping around my arms and legs. Holding space for me to ebb and flow – Like the seagull held secure in her head-first, wing-flapping, flight. Going somewhere and nowhere at the same time. This is a playful space to pull and press worry, hope, and wonder in and around me. Refreshing, drawing out, and channeling away, everything that keeps me from flying. Copyright September 2020 T.L. Eastman
Life is tough, but hope is tougher.