This week I am taking a trip Far Away, for the first time in quite a while. I remember now how much I love that moment when the plane lifts above the clouds, up where it is always sunny. I remember what a delight it is to splash my face with water after a long journey. I remember how wonderful it is to wake to the sound of different birds in different trees.
I also remember jet lag and customs lines and forms with teeny tiny print asking cryptic questions that feel like ancient riddles. I remember how, after a long while of doom-scrolling in the dark (which isn’t really doom-scrolling when it is the actual news), we can walk outside, wherever we are, and find a tiny scrap of wonder. A perfect spiral of shell by the water, a scraggly defiant bloom of witch hazel in the snow, the thump of our own feet on the ground.
Dear ones, in the dark swirling of the world,
may the day-blind stars send us glimmers of wonder,
to see us through.