Maybe I was holding my breath

I may have been holding my breath. That might explain part of it. Perhaps I was dreaming. For whatever reason this morning I woke up by a gasp of my own breath.

There was no feeling of fear just surprise. That I was still alive.

And then extreme gratefulness that I was still alive. And leaky eyes of gratefulness for this life I have been given.

For my husband and family and our home, and cars, and friends, and purpose, and air to breath, health, and friends, and creativity, and dreams, and love and desire and donuts and beer, and the love of children, and goofy jokes, and faith, and trails framed in green, and political freedoms and rights, books, and conversations about important things and watching precious friends cry over gifts, and anger over things that are not right, running, and Amazon, and painted nails, and scripture of truth, memories, and blessings, and laughter, and tater tots, and Grammy’s, and so many many other things and not enough words.


It's good talking with you.

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