A pondering. A marinating. A stewing.

A spark in the routine. Something unpredicted. A gap for possibility.

Joy bubbles. Joy simmers. Joy pops.

There are volumes in the whispers. Repetitive actions displaying patterns of thought. Craters thinly veiled in a lack of comfortability with the silence.

We walked one road, side by side, until two paths diverged. And now through individual forrests we continued undeterred. On both paths shadows simultaneous crept in. Yet we called and shouted to encourage each other as light grew very dim; until in joy our paths rejoined, the Son felt on the earth. Smiles and thanks…