My thoughts on change, at the incredible literary journal, Change Seven.
Change is an intimate friend. A bosom friend, as one of my favorite young bookish characters, Anne of Green Gables, hoped to “confide my inmost soul.” She takes our hand and squeezes, and hugs us when we bleed. Change doesn’t care if we screw up; she’s persistent as a weed, a wave to the shore, a consistent spin of the earth.
“Goat Farm,” courtesy Laurel Dowswell
Sometimes, we want to banish change into a cave and cover it with boulders. We’re not ready, we’re resistant, and we’re scared. But it doesn’t work. Life happens, death happens, and those weeds aren’t wearing any watches. Change pops up over and over again, forcing itself upon us as a teacher, preparing us for the next journey. A bosom friend.
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