I know this, I always have: that loneliness has a quiet beauty resting in its nooks and crannies, that eventually sadness and anger and confusion and fear all peter out somehow, that all I have to do is wait—for a person or a time or a place or a chance. Even when I don't want to, all I have to do is wait.
"I am setting the table with bread and grace/ my knees are bent/
like the corner of a page/ I am saving your place." —Andrea Gibson