We are born with a way of seeing the world. It is partly shaped by where we are born, to whom, who we are raised by and who educates us, but it is also the product of our unique circuitry--an alchemy of all the dust that has produced us. We can decide to see things other ways for the good of others or for our own reasons, but we have to remember how we see things too. Our way of seeing is a fingerprint, proof that we were at the scene of our lives.
I won't visit you this month. You won't call. I will raid your garden and you won't get any of the vegetables. I will make plans without telling you about them. We'll go to the store and not buy you one single thing. Whole books will be read and I will not tell you which ones. I will watch movies and not inform you. The nasturiums will ripen. Last month was different. I changed my schedule and took time off work to be with you. I dropped all kinds of plans for us to be together. You sent me messages, I received them. I picked up food that I thought you would like at the store and sent you pictures of every beautiful thing I saw. I sang with you. We watched the Great Canadian Baking Show. You chose the recipe for the garlic scape pesto and gave me instructions for making the gooseberry jam. I am in August without you. You are in July.
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