And the wisdom, shared in a tumble of tweets, a paper chain across the universe.
And the poem that exploded the room, or made the air leak out in a sigh.
There was the certain conviction that words matter.
And there were hands to receive, and offers of help. There were people who saw the door open a crack, who pushed it wide to allow others through.
And there was the tree dusted with purple and a yellow hydrant kneeling underneath. I could not bear to take its picture.
(Door image came from Sue Baller-Shepard, a new friend. Check out her wonderful Spiritual Book Club site.)