This short prose piece generated from a prompt to write about an age gap. The first thing that came to my mind was the gap between the age I feel and the age I am.
Often, we use the term "settle" to convey accepting less than one deserves. In this poem, that meaning evolves into something else.
I don't think of myself as a collector, but I was a collector, once. At what age does it become unacceptable to put everything we love on display?
I hope the world will be different on the other side of Coronavirus, not because of things outside of my control, but because of the quality time I'm spending with Purpose.
My mind goes places it has never gone before. A recklessness of thought that I could do anything, go anywhere, make any change.
I declared 2019 The Year of Vulnerability. TLDR: I got exactly what I wished for. 2019 was quite a year for me…