A tale of ceaseless twists.
A time without meaning; A time without hope; A sliver of darkness moves into a thought — tangles the scope.
Enter a dream and leave in a fury; Erase all joy; Enjoy all falling into fear — twisting the meaning.
A laugh empty of emotion; A calmness eerie and quiet; A grin of wicked smudging the soul — mangles the mind.
My children are drawing with colored chalk on the sidewalk in front of our house. The neighborhood is quiet.
I’m lifting weights in the garage. Being 50 years old and training for a powerlifting competition is challenging. Keeping watch of an 8-year-old and 5-year-old at the same time is a new level of focus and demand.
It is important to let the girls have space and do their own thing. But, between every set of lifting, I keep my eyes on my kids.
Watching them draw a little city with the concentration of the most intense kind, I wish I could find myself enjoying a project at work with such abandon.
