I remember being a kid and falling asleep to the sound of adults talking in another room.
I remember thinking: they are grownups and they know the answers.
I turned 53 last week.
I am one of those adults talking in another room.
I do not know the answers.
But I like to step outside and look up at the stars.
And I am regularly pole-axed by the beauty of faces—people I know and love, and also people who are strangers to me.
I am undone by a small, sideways moon up high in the sky.
I do not know the answers
But I am (maybe) better at wonder and awe and love than I have ever been.
And this will have to do.

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