Remember how Mum would always say to break things down, and to not look at the bigger picture. The bigger picture is scary, and so is a year. 365 days seems inconceivable right now, but you can manage one day at a time. Stay in bed if you have to. You don’t have to leave the house, you just have to get through another day.
I’m a hoarder of moments, desperate to find gold in paper,
Something that I had missed before, like an echoing smile.
I walk in my loving, sweet Danse Macabre,
My fruitless attempt to make “treasure” worthwhile.
The first sip of coffee holds within it a sense of expectation. It is tired, bleary eyed and grumpy, yet still expectant of the day ahead.