The brownies on the cooling rack
My grandma’s recipe
She never was a baker, so
I’m coughing up a sea

The stories from my family
They wrote them in the wall
They tell of moats and towers, but
My language can’t recall

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The old woman I know as my grandmother, she was born with a fire in her eyes. If she knew fear, she pushed it away in favor of anger. If she knew sadness, she turned to herself to feel it. She left my grandfather to find somebody who could let her dissociate from her emotions. Or at least, that’s how it seemed to me. He’s a likable guy, and I have no complaints there.

Why do we weep for the difficulties others go through, yet keep our hands clean? It defies logic. If we wish to indulge in our emotional side, then let’s! If we wish to back away and take a logical approach, then let’s! It’s the middle ground that confuses people.

At the same time, why are people confused when we take a middle ground? When we are all layered creatures, expecting black and white is unreasonable. What hogwash!

You have an excellent day, and keep going!