Another bright November day. Blue sky. The last red leaves clinging to the maple. The toddlers wandered off to the garden, now littered with ash and brown leaves. Somehow Isabella found one small ripe tomato and popped it into her mouth, deeming it “delicious!” She and her friend picked at the marigolds, still blooming bright yellow. They yanked at the lavender and perfumed the air. They tasted the parsley, now bitter, and spat it out. My mind is still very distracted, murky. But I tried to be in the moment with them. See it all from their perspective, those small, new humans inspecting the acorns, eager to scoop dirt and chase the cat.
My mind is tired from the news. Weary. I attempted a Flash Nano prompt tonight. My writing was sludge. I went through the ones I’d missed. I’m not as far behind as I thought. I’d begun with such gusto and excitement. It’s incredible how transformative last week was, how crushing. But I pushed through. I will keep pushing through. The marigolds hold up their stubborn yellow blooms, impervious to the frost and whipping winds. They stand small but strong. Unwatered. Seeking only sun. Offering their optimism.
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