Flowers on Sunday Take Time

Nobody sees a flower really; it is so small. We haven’t time, and to see takes time – like to have a friend takes time.  – Georgia O’Keefe

My late afternoon nap yesterday turned into about 16 hours of sleep.  I slept through dinner, I slept through all my little nightly things, I slept through waking up at 2 am and 4 am.  My dreams needed to catch up with everything that is happening.  I dreamed the landlady’s cousin was in my room, clucking her disapproval of my things.  And in my dream, I used some profanity that felt really, really good.

I heard your story, and I understand you are finding things out, from somewhere in the middle of your own good time.  Every word broke the surface tension, and there you were – my kind and very dear friend, who lets me fling one-liners around like free money, just to make myself laugh.  Who – as long as we’ve known each other – has always put honesty at the top of the list.  Except about my one-liners.  Because you always laugh no matter how terrible they are – and of course, I know better.

Who are those untroubled people with no harrowing stories to tell?  I don’t know any of them – and whoever they are, I probably couldn’t fall in love with them.

I just want you to feel good, – and know we can talk whenever you want.

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