Starting over again, yet again.
I am surrounded by love and laughter, I am the richest in that which is truly most important in life.
I am still learning, though, always a new lesson.
Today's: there's always more.
More to be done, more to be cleaned,
Will I ever be clean? Washed of my sins, cleansed of the clouds in my eyes, the cobwebs in my soul?
There's always more to be said, more to be fought, more to be built and torn away.
It's a process, a long, long process and I am still fighting through.
Another February begins.
Another long winter takes stock of my sandbagged post.
I've dug in, it's a fine line between enough and too deep.
The February of my discontent, you called it, pretty accurate.
I will pull myself up, hop back in the saddle, and continue the slog through the muck.
It's nice to have the sun shine on my face, but sometimes I am still cold. The wind still stings.
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