And always, there was a woman who answered,

“Daughter, you can.”

Something in me softened and said, Okay… maybe I can try again.

Begin with self-reflection, open understanding, a willingness to see what’s actually holding you in.

There’s something so special about the rain—

so much it wants to say.

A black Americano in hand,

she sank into the wooden bench along the glass wall,

the kind of seat that makes you feel

like the day might open itself to you.

Page after page,

I found gold

in the stories you told.