Sun Spot

I think I curled up here to feel the sun on my shoulder. Warmth cascades through the window, like this sun spot has not yet noticed that it is November. Even the tree that fragments the light across the living room rug is still green-leafed and in denial. How long can we will the season to be what it is not?

The child I love as mine walked away holding the hand of another. Again. Another whom I do not trust to keep him safe. Aching arms and throbbing chest. Twisting gut and such unrest. It wasn't supposed to be this way. Hurting people with hurting kids. Broken families on either side. How long can we will ourselves to be the family we are not?  

And what about the family we are? Where is the beauty in that family, when the pain cascades over and over? Nothing is static. Nothing is in my control. Chase after each of us, Shepherd, with your beauty and love. Because what I have is never enough.