I don't know where my head has been. I haven't been writing much. Sometimes I feel overwhelmed when I find that other people have already said It. And, oftentimes, said It better.
I recommend two books for the rainy season of knotted quilts, hot tea, slate gray evenings, and sitting on heaters. For the season where saying It is often less effective than either experiencing or doing It. Whatever That may be.
Both are by Marilynne Robinson:
"It is one of the best traits of good people that they love where they pity. And this is truer of women than of men. So they get themselves drawn into situations that are harmful to them. I have seen this happen many, many times. I have always had trouble finding a way to caution against it, since it is, in a word, Christlike." (p 187)
"Memory is the sense of loss, and loss pulls us after it. ...There is so little to remember of anyone - an anecdote, a conversation at a table. But every memory is turned over and over again, every word, however chance, written in the heart in the hope that the memory will fulfill itself, and become flesh, and that the wanderers will find a way home, and the perished, whose lack we always feel, will step through the door finally and stroke our hair with dreaming, habitual fondness, not having meant to keep us waiting long."
"But if she lost me, I would become extraordinary by my vanishing."