Withrows.  I hear the stories–> where we come from, who we are.  I feel the stories and some hurt, some heal, some are hi-larious.

And these stories help grow me/we, they have power.  Stories somehow all threaded, from those no longer with us to us still around, to the ones yet to come all tangled up.  I won’t try to unravel them, just proud to be part of the knot.

There is nothing so marvelous and cooling as holding a baby,

when they’re not crying.