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2003-08-24

A picture of sweetness at my heels wants to be communicated--the heart warm, the sloppiness of giving: not always a one-to-one relationship, the making of your own life.

This has been mine this year. Kisses to my brow from my husband. Many moments snapshot in front of me. Him kneeling in the garden or under the tree. Playing tag with kids at work. Running to meet me for a quick lunch.

A sweet life that catches me. That we are so young sometimes--it makes me cry.

I've wanted to produce in the midst of this. Somethings part Margaret Mead, part Karen Carpenter and Bacharach. The sweetness in part. Of kindness of strangers that seem out of place but welcoming after hardness.

It may be too idealistic. But anything in try that adapts their surroundings...their neighborhood and circumstances, into their home. Conflict in place, but more within, more for slowed velocity.

I don't know, you know. It seems to easy for me just to let myself slip into cynicism.