Falling

When you feel like you're falling, 

Like hitting the ground would kill you. Try this -- 

Spread yourself thin. Catch every wisp of air. 

Each hand that reaches out: what can I do to help?

Every well-meaning text that pings

Grab them all.

Take the signature your neighbor the notary offers at 9 pm, no charge.

Say yes to the friend who makes shadow puppets for your child

hand feeds her aloo-gobi and rotis during the strangest time of her five years of life.

Text the college roommate at 3 am. Let her show up and sit with your mother in law

As you wait in the cold sunshine of February in San Francisco for the man who will give you permission to travel to your dying father. 

He stumbles in late. He could've not answered the phone, but he did. And you can go.

Hold your friend's sunglasses in your palm, the ones warm from her head when you fumble to find yours.

Here, take mine, she says. Inhale each act of grace

May his memory be a blessing, they tell you.

Tell yourself this: this is how they show up in your life. 

Awkward, unexpected, afloat on an ocean of grief.

This is how blessings wash ashore, like buoys. Hold them close. 

This is how you breathe. This is how you float. 

(began this on Feb. 11, 2023)