Sometimes I think about all that we've endured and survived, and it takes my breath away.
Because it's never survived by all of us, is it?
We're the planes that made it home from war, riddled with bullet holes on less-essential parts.
We say to ourselves, look how resilient we were!
As if everyone cut down just wasn't resilient enough.
We're not still here because we're any better than the people we've lost.
But we *are* here, facing the next test, and the next.
And that has to be enough.
And yours, beratna. π I can't tell you how much the way you show up in all your multitudes - the goofy ones, along with all the serious ones - makes a difference in this utter mess of a world.
But it does. And you do.