Walking home, Rose decides to play hide-and-seek. She hides first, running toward the brick wall, turning her back to us. Shouldn't a three-year-old know better? Yet here I am. Looking away From the spreadsheet I need to prepare for the board. From the rotting wood on the porch. From the note to give someone a call. From the unhoused man’s outstretched hand. From the stories of innocents rounded up and killed. From the clock as I binge-watch. Thinking If I don’t see it, it won’t find me.
If this resonates, I’d love to hear from you. A comment, a share, or even just a like goes a long way. Writing into the silence is its own practice, but knowing the work lands makes it easier to keep showing up.