Our people used to be right next door. Now we have to go looking.

A single thread on its own can't hold much, but gathered with others it becomes strong enough to keep someone warm — and the clothes we wear are the same, made of countless threads and the hands that wove them. I think noticing those hands is part of how we stay connected.

Time feels like it goes faster and faster each day. And here’s the strange part: I want so badly to slow down, but I feel like I can’t even keep up with slowing down. How does that even make sense?

At 41, I am still discovering my purpose. And I am still excited about it. Still wondering what I want to be “when I grow up.”