The Eve of the Moonflower’s Return is one dreamy take on discovering how the empty nest might alight the pathway to the overflowing next.

For me, buckets hold promise. Buckets allow me to hold one aspect of life, to carry it. This is living. And so is setting it down, resting, admiring, and appreciating.

“So much was lost, but not the gem, the true bounty, the bulk of what we all had our eyes on, our hearts throbbing for. Life. My life. All of the losses, my jaw and teeth, my appearance, my enunciation. These are the confetti chopped and tossed in the celebration. I see myself walking through it, that confetti falling like rain, catching in my hair, highlighting my asymmetrical smile.”

And here today, that question of joy, of what is sacred even in the midst of so much that’s scary--sticks out of flat water like a stubborn shard of granite, as old as time.