Tara > Recent Status Updates

The back and forth is annoying

So, Tony, I remind you, the roots can only grow in stony, difficult ground. The pruner’s shears cut deep. The grapes are crushed and kept in the dark for decades for the sake of the sweetness. For this very moment.

Ellen, the older I get, the more convinced I am that every hurt the world has ever known is somehow the fault of every person who ever lived. Maybe not directly and never entirely, but somehow I fear, we own all of the world’s hurts together.

But something bigger, undefinable, gave Kendrick hope that the old man meant nothing but good.

He pondered how a trunk could become so gnarled. It must have taken a great force to torque such a massive object. Or had some small force early in the trees life dictated its course of growth?
You can bend a twig, but not a tree.

Good morning st minnette. You are strong. And you are brave. And you are kind. Even when you are sad.

Sadness might be many things, but it is rarely stupid. The good sadness, I think, is always trying to tell us something important.

Maybe that’s how you learn truths about yourself, when you are withered down to nothing so it’s easy to see what’s left.

Friends are like oxygen. If you’ve been blessed enough to have always been surrounded by friends, you might think I’m overplaying this. I don’t blame you. If you’ve always been surrounded by air, you wouldn’t think to credit it for your very existence either. But I’ve spent much of my life gasping for breath so I promise you it’s true. Friends are like oxygen. And the only reason I’m still alive…

“Someday you and me- we’ll do great things. We’ll love life for ourselves. And we will help others. We are cubs now, maybe. But we will grow to be lionesses. Strong women who make things happen.”

I guess there’s no bottom to a person, but I feel you have left fewer stones unturned than anyone else who’s ever passed through, and it’s taken me some time to recognize how knowing you has been like coming in from the cold, lonely road to find a warm fire and a table laid, so thank you for that, Theodore.

If I didn’t feel as much to begin with, then it wouldn’t come as hard when, not if, but WHEN my fears came to pass again. I suppose I’ve never recovered. I do not know how to recover.

I believe one ought to be precious with communication. Remember: words, especially those written, are immortal.

Grief shared, I think, can produce two outcomes. Either you bind yourselves together and hold on for dear life, or you let go and up goes a wall too high to be crossed. For us it was the latter.