Mer Rugby Stripe dress on Rust Stairs

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Welcome to my blog. I'm so excited to share with you my latest finds and feels. 

     

 
   It is not my worry that wakes me, but it is my worry that keeps me awake. I stay undercover for as long as I can, willing tired eyes—relent to rest. I raise my white flag with a final toss of crisp sheets.   Each “what-if” piling ont

It is not my worry that wakes me, but it is my worry that keeps me awake. I stay undercover for as long as I can, willing tired eyes—relent to rest. I raise my white flag with a final toss of crisp sheets. 

Each “what-if” piling onto the next, creating a stack high enough to reach heaven—were it really a location on the map. Oh to find heaven. Sneak in for a bit. Watch the locals, maybe even ask about the amenities. To make eternity an expectant destination, not an insurance policy. 

But my aggregated anxieties do not take me anywhere near as serene as the ever-after. They simply pick at my here and now. I lift my arms out wide by my sides, palms facing up. Up towards the elusive ether and imagine my worries siphoning out each finger. Concern creating cyclones, funneling from my palms. Escaping to the rafters above. 

My heart rate slows. My hands relax. The load lightened. With one final stretch I escape my bed, feet planted on wood floors. I close my palms to hold on to the gratitude for this day, before it dares follow the way of worry.

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