We don’t love in snippets and starts,
But in long pulls of enduring faith and patient agony, the molasses of melancholy, knowing every stolen moment of bittersweet perfection can be taken back.

Love and loss entwined together, as inevitable as every lone journey at the end of a long, well lived life.

God willing, I will see you even on the other side, released from the sorrowful joy of mortality, complete for eternity.

🤍white couple goals🤍

In defiance of all so called logic, and in the face of impending societal implosion, I decided to grow a pumpkin.

While it may be true that all manner of savage wildlife like pumpkins, and seek to harm my tiny plant life, I know that the more I persevere, the more water and sunlight and nurture I give this pumpkin, the more it grows and matures and ripens: the stronger it will be.

The more vigilant and determined I am, the more chance my pumpkin has of surviving the season, and it is worth the risk because at the end of the day, my people need new life, and the sustenance it provides. The joy that the sight of those chubby orbs of hope and familial tradition bring outweighs the burden of their harvest.

It just so happens I’ve decided to grow a whole patch; become a full time pumpkin farmer. You should too. 🎃🤍