Waiting for the snow.

Waiting for the right words.

Waiting for a sign.

I feel so out of practice. I’m just trying to hear myself, hear what my own senses are trying to tell me. I’ve been so out of touch.

I can feel it in my body. Jaw popping again. Shoulders inching toward my temples. Constricted breath.

There is much to be done.

Nothing is staying in today.

We debrief afterward. I listen. I reassure. I try to find solutions.

He has placed two milk cartons full of firewood by the front door. The thoughtfulness is what gets me.

I think I hear the rain.