Split-Face Block

The wall I slam into each time I need to ask her a question, and the concrete block I feel against my cheek, when I lean in to press mine against hers, rips me over and over.

I feel tied together by the functionality of life, and shattered when I stop to be alone and vulnerable.

I dread a little after 3 every other day of the work week, when my children run to peer into the glass door of our office, to see an empty chair.

I am so thankful for God's plan.

Yet this intricately, intense storm is going to traverse much land before it dissipates.