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I finally woke up after snoozing a little longer this morning and felt rejuvenated, another day beginning. My heart full of love and joy to be next to my partner, touching my hand on his chest near the chakra, the energy filling our hearts to the brim as we give thanks. Jay, this is just a reminder of how blessed I feel sharing each moment and an idea of the bigger picture, longer term with you. Our lives feel full of magickal splendor; quiet moments of relaxation and regulation; minutes of conversation. I’m ready to start preparing to spend the next five years with you to live in the moment and the next years to come after that.

On rainy nights, we listen to the wind blowing passionately, with the chimes playing their chaotic tunes that drift in through open windows. I cuddle up to you and fall asleep, knowing we’re safe and warm.

You’re sleeping with the occasional snore

the cat at the end of our bed came up from the floor.

I’m excited for you to wake- we have a few minutes to catch up on.

Until then, I’ll treasure this quiet morning before it’s gone.

At the top of the steps coming out our front door is a flower that looks like it might be a Lazy Susan that Jay pointed out to me is inside out. He also pointed out that the little white clusters on long green stems look like baby’s breath, We have a couple of fuchsia buds with yellow sepals that are arranged like flowers inside of flowers. It made me wonder whether the smallest blossoms and the widest cosmos are mirrors of one another, as though the universe itself is simply turned inside out.

Together, we replanted each little plant that had outgrown it’s previous home. We gathered the loose soil into a pan, gently removed each plant from it’s old pot, and introduced it to its new one before adding fresh soil and a little water, It was a messy process, and we waited until the very last plant before cleaning everything up.

Among them was a vibrant green plant with delicate pink blossoms and an overgrown aloe that had grown alongside a much smaller offshoot, still connected to its parent, As we worked, we slowed down and practice a bit of mindfulness, enjoying the simple project together in the kitchen. We found ourselves talking to the plants as though they were people, imagining their personalities and encouraging the, as they settled into their new homes. It was a quiet, ordinary moment that felt surprisingly meaningful, filled with care and satisfaction of helping something grow.

My grandma keeps re-introducing prayer into my life through periods that I need to hear it. “I’m praying for you,..” she said, with an open mind from the times as a kid, up through my first month of recovery when I showed up at her door, disheveled and she went to get me help. The last time I relapsed she said she’d pray for me. I was feeling disconnected spiritually and burned out. But memories of being at her house the last time and her kindness came flooding in and I talked out loud to myself, then to my divinity. I found help that night; a bottle of water, a place to keep dry from the storm, and I headed back to her knowing that I could possibly be turned away, Like a relief, she called my parents who were out of town and had my sister enter me into the hospital, right at my side even when I broke down with anxiety. The prayers from my grandma and the advice to try it out again, with experience in my recovery and only getting better, has rebuilt my faith.

I wish I could start from the beginning of our relationship, heal the trauma I caused and replay the good times just like I replayed the love song by Benson Boone that my mom played today.

I stay sober for myself, but without my sister’s help I would have never made it to the hospital; or the next day. My bloodstream was septic, I don’t know if she knew that. Imagine having your younger sister sit with you through an anxiety attack and withdrawals, reassuring you and telling you the truth to help you play the tape forward. Moving onward, she helped me check into St. Johns. With her, the time seemed to go by faster the withdrawals were a lot easier. I never could have imagined 2 years later writing poetry about it and feeling several levels of gratitude. There’s so much to live for!