I have a visitor who comes here quite often no matter the weather.
She said when she came into the shop this afternoon that everybody’s always got too many pies in everyone else’s business: I don’t like it, I don’t like it, I don’t like being told I am a hoarder and have a problem. So what if I have too many books and too many vases. Who are they to tell me if I’m ok or not? I am ok.
I thought that her hands, that were holding her worn out bag and a copy of Walden by Henry David Thoreau trembled slightly, and then I thought that they trembled again.
(But that’s ok, I know what it is to doubt your own precarious hold on life. The hands always show how much weight there is to hold at any one moment).
Then she left, took off, as she said, into the outside, getting home before the dust storm which she said was because of global warming thanks to idiots like Donald Trump. She left, banging the door and took off, into bravery and difficulty and idiots like Donald Trump and still keeping on going.