Sometimes you just have to stay up all night.
or something just like it...
I'm pretty sure you have to experience hunger and exhaustion and a little fear and just a smidgon of hope.
I'm pretty sure, after tonight, that it's the hope that carries us forward....
Mighty powerful claim to fame for such a small agent.
I'm back in the land of no humidity.
Consequently, my hair looks like a million bucks.
Go figure.
1 comment:
You made me think of my favorite Emily Dickinson poem:
Hope is the thing with feathers
That perches in the soul,
And sings the tune without the words,
And never stops at all,
And sweetest in the gale is heard;
And sore must be the storm
That could abash the little bird
That kept so many warm.
I've heard it in the chillest land,
And on the strangest sea;
Yet, never, in extremity,
It asked a crumb of me.
******
I'm glad you found some hope, mom. I love your GUTS!
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