To survive,
know the past.
Let it touch you.
Then let
The past
Go.”
― Octavia E. Butler, Parable of the Talents

I woke up with my spasm settled, able to walk. And so, with great gratitude, restored to my happy feet, I went out into the summery morning, fresh from yesterday’s rain. Little yellow blossom, like a cup, for raindrops. Milkweed and goatsbeard in bloom. Of the milkweed plants I transplanted, only one survived. I’m grateful for that one, and I check on it daily in my garden. I take a picture of the rippling brook, strange shapes. I think about my blind spots about race and whiteness throughout the day because it’s in the writing sessions I lead, it’s in the role of board member on the International Women’s Writing Guild, and how we serve the writers in our organization. I am surrounded and connected to so many women who embrace change growth, personal authority, grace, and honesty. I had a wonderful writing session with two coaching clients today. This afternoon, my daughter tells me she is writing a blog; a friend has asked her to write a blog about love. I offer to take a look when it’s done if she’d like. She says yes, and sends it to me tonight. She has written about her garden and the turtle mothers and her own pregnancy in the garden and what the turtles teach her about nesting and patience and self-acceptance and peace. It’s so lovely, so well done. The women in my life, all of them, on the phone, on Zoom, in my home, in person, they have all touched me deeply with their stories today.