The comfort invested in my soul

Here it is the end of March and I’m driving home in the snow. Middle Tennessee weather loves to surprise and very rarely brings gifts that suit her inhabitants. Snow flakes, like little white ballerina dancers fly into my windshield. On the radio, the sort of perfect anthem for a gray sky day such as this. Keep your head up. Keep your heart strong. Toes wiggle closer to the floor heater of the car, and my heart extends itself to my maker—in a grateful act of thankfulness–for broken bread and soup and warm conversation. These are the little things taken for granted but that I reminded of as I drive past the worn down, wanderer walking into the wind—gray wool socks, gray coat, gray hat. gray eyes. gray gray gray walking.

Here I am now, greeted by a wagging tale. The wind slams the door rather rudely behind me. the snow song sneaking in behind. And it felt so good to see his face, or the comfort invested in my soul. oh to feel the warmth of a smile when he said, I’m happy to have you home. Ooh I’m happy to have you home.

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