I believe in stories.

Some people have religion, have faith. Some people don’t.

I am neither of these things.

I believe in stories, ties that create strong roots and ropes that can anchor us home. I believe in the unshakable myths that have been carefully folded again and again. Tales passed down as a way to explain things, but also as a way to drive back the dark.

But more than this, I believe in the stories of family. Through stories, the deep sigh of tired soil smiles warmly as the tree grows there, again and again, stronger than before. Past, present, and future splash freely, catching the sun, and we laugh as we drink it all in.

And we are loved.


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