Reflections
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Reflections on awareness, connection, and the strange tenderness of being alive. Quite honestly, I would feel better writing as if I were talking to a very small group of people who actually want to change their lives, or people who are more aware of themselves than others. This almost feels like a diary to myself.
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The slippers are still by the bed. The walker is still at the foot of it, waiting for a hand that won’t touch it again. Everything is exactly as she left it the night before. A few weeks ago, my grandmother, my last living grandparent, passed away in her sleep, peacefully. It was both expected
Sumit's Inkwell 