As I walk this life, I keep noticing the threads — how the past reaches forward into my present, how my present whispers to a future I have not yet met. They are common threads, and they stitch me whole.
I carry a great weight of emotion. And still, I set myself free from it.
I fear no evil — yet I count my blessings like a woman who knows the value of every single coin of grace.
I have loved. I have been loved. I am loved still, and I will be loved — this is the inheritance I refuse to spend carelessly.
I look back, and I call it reminiscence. I hold it tenderly. I keep all of it sacred.
Love has oppressed me. Love has made me uncomfortable in my own skin. And yet — the moment its light finally touches me, the illumination of that feeling — it frees me, it grounds me, it returns me to myself.
I think about it. I live inside it.
Let me name the intersections that shape me: I am a woman. I am a minority — in colour, in sex, in sexual orientation, in socio-economic standing. These are the oppressions I have walked through, and they have carved me into who I am.
And still — I celebrate. I celebrate every opportunity, every turning of my journey, the strange comfort of living inside it all.
Because, my dear, it is the lack — the unknown, the not-yet — that makes life so interesting. That is the mystery that keeps me curious, keeps me reaching.
I live here. I live there. And I live everywhere — because I have learned to make a home of my own becoming.
By: Linda Magano Baumann #LFB
25 August 2026
15h28
