things i never got to say

ramblings at the 38

like everything my coffee cup is half full and cold.  my writings have stalled, empty page upon page sitting, waiting.

i remember when your hands were little and your fingers fat. it feels like years ago, eons. yet not so far if i dream hard enough. it amazes me where you are now. how you have transformed, fingers long and thin. noes still a button.

i remember you and how softly you slept, like a baby bird, feathers tucked in and fluffy.  preceding all fears and buckling down at a tender age, only to awaken in the months to come.

i feel as if I don't have enough time. energy. moments. limbs. i am feeling in need of lists and highlighters. but don't have the drive to create them. so I fall back into technology and let my fingers do the talking, barely understanding what they are trying to say.