Strolling through old stomping grounds, I hold hands with the twenty-nine year old me, now thirty-nine.
She had just said yes to marriage; she had just started the hardest year in the classroom.
I grasp her fingers, hold them tight, it gets better, I whisper in her ear, keep meditating, keep, keeping on.
You will find a love and confidence that others will envy and they probably already are, you just don’t see it.
The strength those New England winters sparked inside me, her, ten years ago, will forever keep me warm, standing, firmly grounded.
