It is what you wanted to do and it can still be what you want to do.
Gathering the ancient Christmas decorations from their crushed boxes, giving them all their yearly dusting, freeing something else too.
Some people are parts of you. Some people struggle to be until they stop struggling and try somewhere else.
She is beautiful. She is strong. She is confident. She is smart.
It is only finished when there is no room for anything else; the universe is expanding.
It is over now, I wrote our story down, and wept when it was necessary for me, and the tissues gathered up the love I still had. It is all for everyone else now, and they accept it, and they love. Everything is new and you are rotting somewhere old.
We will be happy again, and still, and people watching will think we carry laughing gas in our pockets but it is only in our hearts.
The snow is falling in a way it never has and never will again. Watch.