When we think we have it all, we don’t. You wouldn’t catch me saying it but there isn’t a thing called, perfect; no, perfect is not that perfect or cracked up to be. It is convoluted. It makes the perfect story, the best headline for the billboard charts but it is incomplete, a semicolon on a luggage of many Amens.
© Angela Aguiar
About yesterday when you felt the earth moving, you thought the headaches were left behind, your wrongs stuffed in a pile of manure and new engine got started. When a bird sang you a lullaby and you thought it was a new tune. The clock went plus one, the apple came down and you thought miracles were around the corner and issues would vanish at the click of a magic wand, tales would not tell a lie but different, you got a new lease on life, all soundly flipped like a fiddler on the roof. No, they are here and it is. Hope. Faith. Love. Grace. Kindness. Patience. Belief. Trust. Merci and Gratitude. Drain them, put them all in a pot, crunk the oven, bring it to a boil 365 days and voila, a great recipe for life’s journey and naughtiness. Life is for the living. Cheers!
© Angela Aguiar
ludlum drive 
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