To and from. There and then a little more. We will until we won’t. My Mom is a little irritating but still occasionally impressive. Now that Dad is less able, she is learning new skills and new frustrations. Me too. What a humbling time for us all.

My dog won’t stop barking. Except of course, he will. My self centeredness is all too visible in the things I choose to complain against. I’m tempted to find the latin translation for, “I annoy, I am annoyed, we bark at the universe together.” What an excellent family crest.

Grace is illusive. I hope someday to find and embrace this ultimate skill. More than poetry, more than music, more than strength, grace is that quality that makes all struggles less ugly. Is it some form of acceptance? I think grace may come from the release of fear. It may be a kind of personal translation, and something we may only sample now and then, on our best days.


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