I have been most bitterly disappointed not in others, but in myself. So the person who needs my forgiveness most is me.
The room is dark and filled with white noise from the nightstand. Your broad back is rounded in twilight sleep, close and solid. I am pressed against you, inhaling your warmth, sipping the heat of your skin. The day is gathering its events to be unwrapped and examined, but for just this minute, I am still and quiet in your bed.
I feel like I am finally getting back to the little spot of now, the quiet sweet spot that constantly changes but never moves. When panic erupts it shatters me into fragments that land all across the spectrum of time, and through love and grace, I am reassembled, a little weary, but hopeful.