696 That is how many "the book" says are on my friend list How do I know these people, I asked myself on this cold, snowy, Friday in Connecticut. Being in a new state, getting acclimated to new things, pondering what is ahead, also gave me pause to take some inventory of my life in this winter of my contentment. I usually wake up early every morning and Fridays are my Sabbath, so no work to rush to in my office, no Zoom beckoning me across the screen, no whiteplaining I had to listen to from do-good-progressives, no crisis I needed to contend with in the cause of justice. Just me, and my time. Over an oat milk, brown sugar, and rosemary latte, I sat at my acacia wood table with the bamboo benches holding my handmade mahogany wooden pen, and pondered these people who read my posts, chomping parts of my story like morsels feeding a hungry soul. I fed into it, I spooned up parts of my authenticity for consumption, and today, felt myself wondering, who are these 696 people and ...
life, really, and a latte by Tayé Foster Bradshaw