awake

Wide awake with nothing to read. I'm listening to our heater click on and off and trying to forget about the photos I saw of Emmett Till. If it weren't so late, I'd wander outside.

Maybe this is why people garden: to plunge your hands into the dirt and coax something beautiful out into the world. As it is, I'll settle for peeking in on the sleeping family and hoping that the doors don't squeak.