It happens every year. On a fine spring morning, I feel surprised, even shocked, to see where the sun rises. ☀️ This - regardless of the fact that my daily walks afford me ample consistency to track this detail. Year after year, walking the same trails. 

Most weeks, my Tuesday writing group is where my words and thoughts coalesce for this Wednesday newsletter. I typically arrive with a partially marinated idea of what I want to share with you and in the course of an hour, a short essay is born. Not this week. 🥹

Suddenly, there’s a black and white speckled pup trotting down the middle of the road. I slow up, grateful no one's behind me. I flick on flashers and roll down the window as a car from the other direction approaches, stops, and the driver’s door opens. I wrongly assume he’s the owner.