"You are usually not so close.  That tree is usually not so far away," he exclaimed
all the way to preschool that day. Everything was examined from both ends of the binoculars.  Nothing escaped his notice through those lenses.

I am taking some time to do a workshop at a retreat centre this week.  I held my breath a lot (and washed a lot of dishes) making the decision to go through with my plans to come here.  All the routines (however only half working as they are) have been the tracks I have been sliding along.  I didn't want to leave the tracks, the making of lunches and matching of mittens and the reading of bedtime stories, because sometimes it feels like those tasks are the only gluey bits holding us together.

I have left the tracks. Usually things are not so close or so far away.


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