Worry is like running after butterflies.  You want something beautiful in your hands and it’s chase chase chase for the untenable–the future.  Just keeps me running around in circles.

Gray day filled with fog on the next step, long drive, cold and useless clothes, hard to set up a face for the day.

And there you are–human existence, one day at a time.

Gratitude, awareness, easy doing it.  And let the car act as it may, the daughter fuss as she does, the future loom as it will.

I grab hold of Her, Your, hand and we go off swinging our arms and singing along like school girls.