“Another world is not only possible, she is on her way. On a quiet day, I can hear her breathing.”
~ Arundhati Roy, War Talk
What might that breath sound like?
Hope, I should think.
Maybe the wind dropping in on a quiet lake out of nowhere. Or the cold rattle of winter oak leaves shielding next year’s buds.
The wild crackle of a fire well-fed, the rush of a river over rock, a trickle over sand, a drop over tongues.
The deafening crash of wave upon wave upon wave, always coming in. The gentle clatter of wave upon wave upon wave, always coming in.
All of these, of course, and more…
The perfect song at the perfect time, heaven-sent.
(Loudly, please. It is the breath of another world on her way after all.)
The door opening, a loved one home. The door closing, silence singing through home. Laughter, laughter, laughter.
The shush of blowing snow, towering stands of pine, or fresh sheets unmade.
How about a surprising smile bursting with unsheltered love, easy joy, and some unfathomable ring of intimacy from an Amish man I’ve never met, but who knows me as a friend or a love or a savior, even just there in the airlock to the Aldi?
I think so. Definitely.
“There’s a stranger out there who still thinks of you because you were kind to them when they really needed it. Never stop being that person.”
~ Unknown
Tucked happily into the gorgeous hills and woods of Wisconsin, I write about life, faith, and the humor that both require. 
Tales From the Nexus 
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