Life is a mess. It is filled to the brim with the beautiful, the boring, and the broken. The things that break us. Our feet hit the floor one morning without a single clue that when our head returns to the pillow our hearts will be fragile once more. Things breaking, that’s normal. And it’s sad that that is our reality, but it is. It hurts.
A few months ago, I heard this story on Invisibilia. I’ve listened to a lot of podcasts but none like this before. None where the story returned to my mind, days and weeks later.