Can the Circle Be Unbroken?
Inside the front entry of our beach house near Blaine, Washington sits a worn wooden dough bowl my husband’s grandmother used for making bread back on the farm. This bowl is filled with dozens of polished stones, many from our very own beach, which serve as a guestbook. Each precious name-stone calls to mind a different laughter-filled, sandy, salty communion of family and friends. Like a relentless tide, the COVID-19 pandemic has eroded away opportunities for sweet fellowship and messy jumbles of hugs and kisses. While the physical circle is broken, love’s connective tissue finds its way. That circle not only can be but is yet un-broken.
© Kirby Larson