“There are years that ask questions, and years that answer.”
The words from her favorite book
linger in the air for a moment longer.
There is a tenderness in her eyes,
and a soft silence blankets us.
We are suddenly deafened
to the clinking of metal against plate
and bright café chatter.
Will the coming ones
be the years that answer?
No matter.
To still be here
is an answer,
a marvel in itself.
I glance at these women,
each one a wondrous force,
and look down at my lap.
In my open palm is a piece of me
whose shape I have not quite figured out
but in that moment,
I know they have held it, too.
Mar 23
Mar 23, 2026 at 3:31 AM UTC
“There are years that ask questions, and years that answer.”
The words from her favorite book
linger in the air for a moment longer.
There is a tenderness in her eyes,
and a soft silence blankets us.
We are suddenly deafened
to the clinking of metal against plate
and bright café chatter.
Will the coming ones
be the years that answer?
No matter.
To still be here
is an answer,
a marvel in itself.
I glance at these women,
each one a wondrous force,
and look down at my lap.
In my open palm is a piece of me
whose shape I have not quite figured out
but in that moment,
I know they have held it, too.
Quote from Their Eyes Were Watching God by Zora Neale Hurston.
Written after spending time with some girlfriends. Happy Women's Month!
