A riff rings in my ear. An earworm beckoning. A song in labor awaiting its due date.
There are too many subjects to consider focusing upon for this song that knocks at the door to my soul. I let the song in and we have a conversation. “Can’t you put them all together?” the riff asks.
“If only I possessed that much wisdom and patience. It would take a lifetime to learn all the lessons these atrocities teach.”
“You’re already 42. I’m not leaving.”
And the riff rings again.