It’s 3:15 on a Thursday morning. I can’t sleep because I’m anxious. The love of my life is having a procedure tomorrow and I’m terrified that something will go wrong. It won’t. The odds are stacked against that but lets not bring common sense to a 3 am rambling!

The seasons are changing – I see swallows swarming to make their way back ‘home’ and some that are settling to stay. I see moths everywhere and google the meaning of why they are making homes in our home. I see the sun rising lower and later and life chattering around where to hunker down for the winter that always comes.

I see meaning in it all and yet nothing makes sense and my poor Skye looks at me with bewildered eyes wondering if these conversations will ever stop? 

I say, kindly and with grace, I don’t think so. My voice came late in life but it’s come now and you’re my person and so ‘tag, you’re it’ and she smiles and busy’s herself with photo editing or actually changing the world in some way because she does that, she affects change. In her job and her world and in mine.

A family friend told me the other day that she was gay – it’s a word that bumped up against me. One of my best friends loves to throw around the word lesbian because she’s hilarious. Another darling friend’s son gave me a whole list of words that would describe me in ‘today’s generational PC explanation of race, gender, colour, and preference’ – I can’t remember a word he said, I love him obviously but it washed right over me.

And I wonder about it all. The meaning of life – wasn’t there some movie or book about that, and the meaning was ’46’? Well, I cruised past 46 and still, there are no answers.

My best friend on Earth says the meaning of life is love and I agree. I finally agree with her (I really always have but she loves purple and yellow – together – so that’s hard!).

It’s sometimes hard to love though when those around you, those who are meant to protect and support and show up for you don’t even know you’re not feeling loved. So then I question where I went wrong, why I can’t ask for love and on it goes (Skye eye-rolling again!).

But I lean back in my red chair and listen. And it’s all ok. That small voice inside us that, when we stop and take stock, always knows. And it will be ok because it somehow always is. An owl outside tells me so, the cats purring around me tell me so. My love sleeping peacefully upstairs tells me so. My heart tells me so.

Go back to sleep. Everything will be ok. I love you. We can do hard things.

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