Outside I sit in a lawn chair, mouth alive with coffee. A rare mild day in the winter, a breeze passes by on the edge of nonexistence, barely strong enough to remind of us its presence but there on my face nonetheless. Softly a song plays, not happy, not sad, but a song in its pure and truest form, an arrangement of sound and a feeling. In this moment, I have a hope for the new year. I can’t help but be caught up in emotion, in the worship of an easy presence, a lighter walk, a calm assurance that everything will be okay.
Our New Grip 