Somber is the way heaviness presses me to a warm slumber. Almost the exact opposite of motivation. Lack of motivation and desire and progress.

I have always been a private person and yet somehow my insides have always found their way out. We have a tree in our backyard. It’s a tiny purple plum and last year we were certain it was dead.

Motivation feels like I am a racehorse waiting to get out of the gate. Not quite yet the release, grrrrrr the not yet, almost, wait it will be just a second.

When we travel, we actually take three trips. There’s the first trip of preparation and anticipation, packing and daydreaming. There’s the trip you’re actually on. And then, there’s the trip you remember.

Discouragement runs deep. It feels like the cells pull downward into an abyss of nothing is as it should be.

I have ghosted my relationship with nature. I left my sweet tree hanging in the balance waiting for connection and explanation from me. Waiting for more than just a half-hearted glance as I walk by the window.

I have spent so many days, hours and energy taking care of other people. Always being on alert to their feelings and preferences and wants and needs and…