Some days are rough. Gentle giants die in smoke and leave their families alone, without a sense of why things happen. And sometimes it's hard to be with the team. People disagree and we all have our personal shit that pulls us in all directions but none of that matters when the whales are cold and tired. I miss home and your warm arms to make me feel safe and that everything can be okay. You're so good at that.
Some days are beautiful. You walk into a stranger's house and feel at home. And they almost have those arms of yours. And we sit there on the warm carpets feeling less cold and tired.
I'm sorry I snap sometimes or leave the room to hear the quiet of my breath or escape the car to write down these thoughts.