Progress can be measured. Repair must be tended. This is a reflection on what happens when systems address risk, but leave rupture unnamed.

A season that did not end cleanly, but revealed itself slowly. I am still standing on the dock — held by what steadies me, looking toward what is still forming.

The only thing out of stock was a bag of toffee bits.
And somehow, that was the thing my brain decided mattered most.

The only thing out of stock was a bag of toffee bits.
And somehow, that was the thing my brain decided mattered most.

Every so often, life offers a moment that stops me long enough to take inventory — not of what I’ve accomplished, but of whether I’m still living in alignment with who I am. Gratitude, faith, and love can coexist with complexity, and sometimes the work of a season isn’t becoming someone new, but protecting who you already are.