I have been asking some hard questions since I found out Brigid died. Ones I have not asked in a long time.

Much love and promise in the beginning of our lives; Such damage after that.

Weary and worried about my sons.

As I walked back to the train in Boston, we saw a field of small sunflowers, many had bloomed and turned to the sun; others where about to bloom with a few early pedals unfolded from the bud. I wondered about the ones that don’t bloom that end up as stalks with leaves that look like green tongues sticking out at you.

In the middle of this field of miniature sunflowers was a sign affixed to a stick. The sign read:

It is easier to build strong children than fix broken men. – Frederick Douglass

I wish the building came with better guides and instructions and insurance because even to witness the brokenness makes life so hard to bear.