Like poetry, sometimes places or people ring true in the depths of you. And that is how you know.
It’s how I know one day I must go to Little Sparta’s Garden so my soul can keep growing.
It’s how I know to marry Ash this weekend and claim my glimpse of the sea.
And it’s how friends know to send notes like this one on the eve of a life:
“Work must be KILLING you this week. All my good hair/skin/nail thoughts are with you. I just ate some salmon and dedicated all the fish oil to you.”
Enough champagne to last a lifetime of Wednesdays
(and sometimes Sunday mornings mixed with Orange Juice)