Sometimes it's not the moment but how that spot feels so deeply familiar.
Sometimes it's not the path but the observation of war there.
Sometimes it's not the words but their implied reduction that is unnerving.
Sometimes it's not the story but the uncertainty that made the same choice.
All of those things and more using the freedom of speech within hand-painted homes.
Loudly holding the stage without acceptance or understanding being in the audience.
As if the weather has unfairly left the sun to be remembered as watching from the sidelines.
When all we wanted was to be good storytellers but unhappy came as it is in reciting what it sees as facts.
And minds were left unable to take note of better within the disorienting vacuum that grief has brought to the landscape.
With those limits being filtered through distracting lectures that honor the win and not the individual stepping along the way.
Labeling us with words in such a way that it's hard to believe that they won't continue their rampage until we somehow stop showing up as ourselves.
Movement that depletes happiness and camouflages it in places we haven't even gotten to yet.
Setting us down with the news that we aren't even welcome in our own homes because our gardens know things other than laughter.
We are, after all, not only sitting with the thoughts and feels of moments but have leaned into listening to the solitude of one-sided footage.
Not to the love that always remembers us no matter what but the one that only likes us when the weather is just right.
Not to the happy that nourishes grief's needs but the one that longs to live without debris.
Not to the speech that supports the spaces left by afraid but the one that goes under every time fear gets ahold of colors.
But happiness doesn't shout a chosen storyline, it simply breathes in the ease of love not being under-fire while unhappiness just omits the love buried deep in the root system of debris.
Forgetting that its still there, still waiting, still connected to us in the eeriness of the dark as it listens to our footsteps all around it.
Sometimes it's not the story but the yes within words that makes big hearts unwelcome within their own homes.
But then there is another yes in those same words that knows that happiness is a contradiction because dancing with dragons makes it strong and swaying in the sun makes it soft.
Have the best day POSSIBLE for you. Love Always, Heavell
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