I dreamed of you last night. Hours and hours of you, I cannot now remember all the ways in which the night went on with your smile melded into it, all I know is I woke with sprouts in my chest. It is a gift to know another; it's been so long since any of us unwrapped anything. The year comes to a close and you have sand in your hair; the year comes to a close and I have sprouts in my chest, it is another year of unknowns ahead but I am not afraid to make plans anymore. I am not afraid to put joy on my to do lists because joy does not depend on the world functioning as you would like it to, not now. Not anymore.
It's been two years of fire now, of tearing down all that we've spent lifetimes building, and some days we sit sifting the smoldering ashes between our fingers, seeing nothing but all that we have lost. But every now and then you get a moment when your fingers are full of glue, when you put together the ruins and weave something new entirely. I am not afraid of hope anymore. I am building it out of strengths I didn't know I had until I needed them.
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