hold out your hands

(check-in & a little comfort quiz)

good morning, sweet friend.

I’m writing to you from a room that is all windows and no curtains, where I crept in at six because it gets the best sunrise. what a weird, out-of-focus feeling the past couple of weeks have been. have you felt it too? as if it’s been very difficult to ground into anything familiar, or the day is passing quicker than it should. maybe this time in spring is when the bear of us would wake to flowers sprouting in the snowmelt and be surprised there was any world at all after sleeping through winter. maybe this blurred, between-worlds feeling is what remains.

this morning, it is a little less. I’m writing to you from a creaky beautiful spooky home in Ohio, where I will soon leave, board a plane, and head back west. I’m sorry I’ve been away a while. it’s been a little tricky to write. but as I’m packing up my things, I’m feeling a little bit more grounded, whether it’s the sensation of returning home or that I’m filled a bit more now with things I’d like to write. there are new thoughts I want to explore, old hurts I need to look at a little more, and stories bobbing like little lures on the bay. of course, these are jiggly, uncooked poems that require more time and are not what I have for your hankering precious eyes to eat up today.

today, I’d only ask you to hold out your hands so I can leave a little comfort in them. (a little quiz with some words of encouragement depending on what you need.)

I hope you find the ground to where you’re standing. if it takes a little bit, or if you find it and misplace it for a second again, it’s okay. me too. we’ll just find some more company, more eyes, more hands to hold on to it. :) talk to you soon.

with love,

schuyler (sky-ler)
venmo: schuylerpeck