Through.
When all you can do is sit. Sit.
When all you can do is lay, looking out to the grey, still sea. Then, lay.
If the one thing you want to do is knit. Knit. The layers will become something lovely, one day.
If the need to write takes over. Then you must write until all of the words are in front of you.
It’s been said before but that’s because it’s true. The only option is to go through this.
All things end. Even this.
In the meantime, there is no way around it. So surrender yourself, darling. One day this will be just another moment in time. Or it will simply tangle amongst all the brief memories of small consequence.
So you didn’t get things done. What are those things anyway, but life’s complicated arrangement of should’s and should haves.
You love.
And you are loved.
You see, in the end, that is all that matters.
