One Way Street Sign

He said, “That's ballsy – going 10 mph over the limit in front of the police station.” To which I responded, “Not really. It's about patterns and flow and finding my space in the parameters.” We agree to disagree. Which is to say, nothing changes. Hence the question: where is the flow?

How much time or mental exercise is spent rearranging the world's circumstances or following the world's rules? How guilty am I?

January begins the lengthening of days. Even at 4 a.m. darkness feels charged with awakening. Snow will cover the ground again but for now, the sight and moisture of naked earth stirs what is typically asleep. I smell soil and hear chickadees. Last season's bent and broken cattails form a golden crown around the wetlands. Ghosts of red-winged blackbirds catch my eye.

A corner of our land will newly have more sunlight in the spring. Kyle suggests a greenhouse there someday, an idea I love until I ask, why a greenhouse before a chicken coop? Please understand something: I know I can have anything I want in this situation. Yet I also know I am a helpmate and partner. Both things can happen and the impetus to help and give is a one way street sign pointing to the fact that there is nothing to forgive.

Not in you, not in anyone.