We live in words—some beautiful, some painful, some hopeful, some gnawing, some dark, some lucid, some heavy, some light. We live in words. This one was for a certain someone.
I gift words—but sometimes they don’t come out right. More than three years ago, I quoted Mary Oliver on one of the letters.
To live in this world
you must be able
to do three things:
to love what is mortal;
to hold it
against your bones knowing
your own life depends on it;
and, when the time comes to let it go,
to let it go.
Yes, yes. But there is nothing more stubborn than the heart.