In a time of frenzy, movement, possibility and impending decision, I find a note to my current self, care of my pregnant self. This outpouring was captured 8 months in, and 20,000 feet up, on the last blank page of whatever I was reading at the time.
Was it hormones? Oxygen deprivation? Perhaps a genuine and renewed commitment to the world, as landing place to the little human brewing inside me? Who knows.
Now just simmering on what I’m meant to do with it.
I bet she could tell me.
