Bread and honey. Comfort food, though I would add a pat of butter for good measure, and the bread would be fresh from the Wegmans bakery or perhaps the Abbey of the Genesee. If I were at the Abbey bread store, I would get a jar of creamed honey to go with the bread. Heavenly.

Bread and honey. Simple things. Comforting things. Like steaming chicken soup when I'm feeling poorly.

I love to sit on the train and breathe and watch America's back yard go by, the houses and industrial lots and old roads. Real life is a lot like that, untidy around the edges with old stuff scattered here and there, and yet, somehow, still managing to make do, and even be beautiful if one has the eyes to see it.

There's comfort in that, remembering that I don't have perfect and tidy and shiny, with all the loose ends tucked in. Because I'm not. There are loose ends flying around all over the place.

Yet, somehow, in spite of it all, I am loved. And the bread and butter and honey bear are waiting in the kitchen.

Thanks be to God.

Yashica-D TLR
Kodak TMax 400 120 roll film
Epson Perfection V500 Photo scanner