i will miss you.
truth: i fucking love my job and the talented, genuine, big-hearted folks i work with.
also truth: if i ever have to stare at those assholes for fourteen hours straight again, it’ll be a billion years too soon.
my word, today was long.
i do not take for granted that i’ve a freestanding bathtub, a window opening to a sun soaked garden, singing birds instead of rushing cars.
i note with thanks the cupboards, filled with dried pasta and tinned tomatoes, promising a comforting meal on a night that i do not have the money for groceries.
i see the man who loves me, not with perfection, but with intent all the same.
vetiver in my bath water and lavender in my heart.