I say I am finding grace, but I think I am succumbing to liminality. My life runs between two parallel lines. I hop between either line, attempting to escape the middle ground of liminality that lies between them.
dad smokes outside West Ridge cafe/ friday nights at ten/ after coffee, two creams no sugar/ shelf burritos and twizzler sticks/ gone hard and cold at our corner table
“Now I lay me down to sleep,
I pray the Lord my soul to keep;
If I should die before I wake,
I pray the Lord my soul to take. Amen….
And also…
God,
Please, please, please,
give me big …
Is it even possible to explain why you like something? And I don’t mean explaining why it’s cool, but why, over everything else people love in this world, you love what you do.