“I” statements

I want to tell you how beautiful the light is here, a strata of blues darkening
the further I look up. I want to say how good the spaghetti was just now, arranged as it was in the red ceramic dish with the scalloped edges, which gave the meal a shape I hadn’t expected. I want to admit that for certain things I have so much patience, my heart stretching effortlessly, and for others my whole body narrows into such reedy agitation, it feels like I could break. I want to remember that I cannot blame myself for every failure. I want to keep looking in the garden for metaphors. I want to put screens on the porch windows, let in more…