Shattering stories, dashing hopes, smashing dreams, stomping on possibilities. We are living in what feels like this whirlwind of movement that only leaves destruction in its wake, So it is somewhat fitting that this morning, my husband, in his big former linebacker elegance and grace was whizzing through the library to kiss me goodbye on his way to an early meeting, gym bag and briefcase haphazardly on his shoulder, when in less than two seconds, he whirled around and hit the cabinet with my carefully curated mug collection and before either of us could stop the impending disaster, two of them catapulted to the hardwood flood and shattered in several pieces, the force of his gait and the velocity of the wind in that turn made this an impossible-to-safe-situation. "Ohhh, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry." "I would clean that up." "I don't have time." He hugged me in remorse as he almost ran out the door to our garage, the clock ticking on his day. I sa...
life, really, and a latte by TayƩ Foster Bradshaw