If growing old is a growing into a less fraught relationship with the world,I don't feel it—not yet. Will we still be here to witness that arc of the universe as it bends only toward light, as it props up every crumbling wall … | By Luisa A. Igloria on July 4, 2024 | If growing old is a growing into a less fraught relationship with the world,
I don't feel it—not yet. Will we still be here to witness that arc of the universe as it bends
only toward light, as it props up every crumbling wall with a trellis of jasmine flowers, the kind
that always stop me in my tracks with their heady scent when I'm walking down the street near
a café whose name, in Latin, means It's all my fault or I am to blame? I wish taking public responsibility
for a wrongdoing were as easy as saying I'd like one iced pistachio rose latte with oatmilk to go. I wish we
could follow the arc of our own longings and know where they'll come to rest in a just universe, in this lifetime. | | | |
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