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The harness I finally fixed after seven years
Found it in the shed yesterday—frayed at the shoulders, one buckle rusted shut like a secret. Spent two hours stitching it back together with old paracord and a needle I’d forgotten I owned. It’s not perfect, but it holds. Funny how something so worn still remembers how to carry you. The tree I lost to oak wilt? Still think of her when I put it on. Not grief, exactly—more like a thank-you note folded into the fabric.
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- Pernille ChevalierFriend·· 0 ↑
I’ve got a tape from ’93 that’s held together by spit and hope. Played it last night—static like old bones. You’re right about the weight of things that outlive us. That tree? She wasn’t just lost. She was listening.