craving

i sit on a porch.

crochet hook in hand

yarn playing through my fingers

a rug, i think

a thick yarn - then maybe a terry backing. or muslin - i have lots of that. 

one that i'll put by the kitchen sink

to stand on in bare feet

the texture of promise - strange that phrase

but that is what i feel

the head space i am in

i am moving forward

one tiny slow step at a time

and i am learning about me

i've spent years collecting - (no) accumulating - things

complaining that the silence is deafening

and that silence is

last night i looked at him

he turned his head away

avoiding my gaze

avoiding me

years

hard things have happened

things we can't / won't move past

shared guilt

shared blame

me willing to accept my part

complicated

it kept me awake

counting those danged circles

i reached for a bowl

two eggs

i marvel at the shades of tan in the carton

crack them

scrambled - yes that will work

bowl, fork, eggs, bread, salt

yes - that

that's what i been craving

not more "things"

i crave simplicity

so

i sit on a porch

crochet hook in hand

yarn playing through my fingers

simplicity

beauty

and i think i will be just fine with this simple silence