My hands are stained and feel like sandpaper. The dirt just ravaged them. But I am excited for the food I will eat in future months. I've decided to keep it simple. There will be so much kale. And tomatoes.
What do I say?
Something has been lost here. Great transition is afoot. It's thrilling and terrifying. It is also much needed.
For a long time I was very afraid. I realize that now. And I feel sorry about it, because inevitably it cost me a lot. A lot of time hiding. Tucked away beneath the bar stool. Buried in my thoughts. The hardest part is crawling out of that place. Writing is a tense place for me. I've grown so accustomed to the comfortable ways of doing it. Without certain facets I feel as though I can't get the right thoughts out in the right order to say the right things. My mouth is dry.