My box of hope.

My box of hope.

I received my box of hope today. With all my clothes inside, methinks. Fedexed. I haven’t opened it. I’ll probably open it tomorrow. Or the next day. And unpack my clothes. Clothes left in hope.

Grief is good once you decide to walk through it. I’m treating this as a death, because whenever we lose people we love, it is a death. And I’m saying grief is good because I’ve decided to walk through it. Carry my cross. Surrender.

Unwrestle.

One thing I am grateful for, in receiving this box of hope, is that I once again see a glimpse of the person I thought I knew. Good heart. Generous spirit. The man who took responsibility. It got lost somewhere.

But with this box of hope, I see a glimpse of it again, and for that, even if my heart bleeds, I am grateful today.

For this box of hope.

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Door to my apartment building.  Baku, Azerbaijan.

Door to my apartment building. Baku, Azerbaijan

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