"I am slowly, painfully discovering that my refuge is not found in my mother, my grandmother, or even the birds of Bear River. My refuge exists in my capacity to love. If I can learn to love death then I can begin to find refuge in change."
― Terry Tempest Williams, Refuge: An Unnatural History of Family and Place
I don't have a clue what that last line means except that I am seeking a way to make peace with the fact that everything changes—everything has changed. I look in the mirror and I am not the same. The face staring back at me is older, sadder, not wiser. My mother died and I gained ten pounds and ten years in the mirror. My attention feels fractured. I cancelled my Atlanta trip. I think I need to stay close to home, gather myself, start over.