If you know me, you know I fall in love all the time. With songs, books, people. I fall in love with a word, a bird song, the things that fall so effortlessly from the minds of creatives. I fall in love with cool breezes on hot days, with the cleverness of the young, the tenderness of the old.
I spend a lot of time in an attentive pose on overgrown trails. I have endless patience if I think I might glimpse a bird I can hear in the trees. I fall in love every time I hike a new trail and discover a mossy bend around a corner crawling with baby snakes, or a view that no other eyes are looking at in that very moment. I fall in love with twilght and the white moon against the starry black sky.
There’s so many heart-stopping things. So much to love. Today it was this family of swallows on a single branch above the marshy pond. My heart almost burst. I’m so lucky. When the world feels full of hate and noise, I’m so lucky I can still find some small, breathtaking thing to fall in love with.
This feels like a prayer.
And so it is.