So there's this place. I used to go to it a lot. But now I don't. Now I only go to this place when it just feels like it's been too long since I've been there. The space in between my visits lengthens with the passing of time, and every new re-entry is met with more joyous--and more fearful--anticipation. You know, kind of like when you leave home for the first time? At first you go back and visit a lot, try to keep in touch with everyone and everything, maintain those ties. But then, as life has pulled you off in another direction, that home doesn't feel like home anymore. And when you visit it it's like you truly are just a visitor now. Seeing it with fresh eyes. And maybe it's seeing you with fresh eyes too. Maybe you're not meant for each other anymore. Being meant for each other only worked in that other lifetime. Of course this angle can be seen with relationships too. Think about break-ups, divorce. Places, though. They hold their own in

When the new year arrived, I had this very vivid thought, riding my bike home from band practice with my man. I'm sure we all have these reflective thoughts around that new year time...as we consider the cycle of things that had happened prior, what it all might've meant, how we feel about it, what might happen in the cycle that looms ahead. Anyway, I was on my bike talking with my man about what I wanted to do next, with music and with writing, and it dawned on me that I'd really done the tried and true thing of using creative outlets to heal! Ok...so I don't think we're ever fully healed from anything, but insofar as rising above the hurt, I had done that. And I credit the creative outlets more than anything else. Thinking back to 2018 especially, I had taken karaoke-ing to a new level. I went weekly, or more! Then I turned it into a channel, then I got brave and posted things elsewhere, got braver still and tried out for a couple music things, joined a band.

Space I feel it around me Space In the in betweens The breaths The bites, the sips, the (heart)beats But sometimes There isn't enough Each direction pulls with urgency The space is a race instead And I am stretched too thin The stack too high, too fat, too pulsing It pushes everything else to the wayside Leaving it like a thin spine on a book shelf Hardly visible But full of the magic and the energy I will need To get through the space Of tomorrow

RECAPITULATION Well, I feel like I have to do this before I can really begin here.  I'm not simply starting fresh; life is more complicated than that. .............................................................................. Harry Walking home in the rain, having just dropped the kids off for an afternoon visit with their dad, carrying groceries heavy like how I feel, I saw Harry. Harry is a man in his 80s who lives nearby. I see him often in the neighbourhood, and--even better--at karaoke. To be honest he kind of gave me the creeps a tiny bit when I first met him. But then one night at karaoke he told me with misty eyes that I reminded him of his mother. That (cautiously) changed things for me.  Harry is inspiring! He comes to karaoke by himself and sometimes even has his walker supporting him as he makes his way up for his turn. He always sings "On the Street Where You Live" from My Fair Lady. He sings it so strongly and beautifully it always