This morning I sold my dog, set my goats free in the State Park, smashed my favorite mug and cut my dreadlocks off. Then I opened my eyes, stretched into my freedom and heard my choices chirping. I sat with my tea, kissed the dog, fed the goats, tied back my hair and began the story of my life again. These things I choose: the snow that’s falling anyway, even though it knows my position on this; the solitude of my pajamas until another dark; a phone and a tray of brownies. This work I take up: clearing off the kitchen table; filling the box to mail to him; asking myself three questions that bloody me at the edges…This morning I sold my dog. I might do anything next. But most likely, I won’t surprise you.
Wren on January 4th, 2010