Breathe.
That's what she told me. Breathe.
Whitewater emotions, nebulae thoughts, as hard to capture and rein in as wild horses.
Breathe?
That's what she wrote. Breathe.
Yes. I can do that.
So many seemingly urgent tasks to accomplish and yet...
Be. Present.
This time is a gift. Maybe long, maybe short. A gift nonetheless.
Presence is what I can give.
To the sounds of thrumming rain, humming fridge and snoring cat, I slow and...
Breathe.
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