It’s the second week of January and I haven’t offered an eloquent prayer this week. I haven’t written a poem that moves me as immediately as the ocean or as thoroughly as music. I haven’t managed to eat all the groceries in my fridge before the cilantro turns to a darker shade of slime. It’s the second week of January and I haven’t mastered a gimlet or exercised everyday or remembered to check my 403-B. It’s nearly the third week of January and I’m still starting my emails I hope this finds you well, when I really mean I hope you have a place to stand that feels stable and dry amidst the shifting tectonic plates of our everyday world. I hope you feel loved. I hope you know you matter to someone. It’s almost February and I’ve hit snooze, hit play on the remote, hit a flow state maybe twice. It’s almost tomorrow and there’s been nothing to write home about and all the same, I am so grateful for January’s chance to start again.
Written by Sarah Speed // Writing the Good
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Every night we sit on the couch. Your arm around my shoulders, my knees pulled towards my chest. We eat dinner. We talk about the day. The dog sleeps, belly up nestled on top of our sock feet. And eve