Two days out from checking into East Casa, late January. The hamper is packed in cold storage, and rain freezes down on all this snow.

” Everything and everyone will be fine at home.” Doubts.

Optimism. That pine branch hangs low over the driveway leading to the casa, but my cargo van hood will lift it up and brush it aside like a wisp of bangs on a forehead. 300 plus pounds of salt over the rear axle will allow for enough traction to climb Monastery Road.

Surface thoughts: worried about built environments, food for husband and pets, the weather.

Onward to the School of the Heart. Every school has a door. And everyone should be blessed to have a Mother, as touchstone, who says “Go in, go…I’ll be right here whenever you need me.”

Calm. Please. And silence. I need to listen. I hope I can hear. The door to the school of the heart creaks loudly, and weighs a ton.

A tiny glimpse into Benedict. I am overwhelmed with sadness at the passing of New York’s Reproductive Rights Bill. And horrified at all it implies. Reverse evolution: I prefer a cave.

And time with Our Lady, Queen of Peace.

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