This morning, I arise at 5am to bring my brother to the airport. We embrace at departures and I drive away.
An evocative song plays on the radio and tears slide down my cheeks. Life is painful, I decide. No sooner have I had that thought when I have another: But it’s also beautiful.
Both my siblings are in Australia but I’m lucky to have a great relationship with them. I’m fortunate to experience love and sadness. This is living.
I’m feeling melancholy and alone but there’s a certain freedom in these feelings. I’m present and open. I’m alive.
And so I enjoy this early morning journey. The pull of the wind. The warmth of my car. The quiet road beneath a somber sky. And the scent of the Christmas wreath as I creep back into the family home.
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