tomorrow is a new day

sometimes i just need quiet. often. no loud music, only classical or none at all. 

sometimes i just need to stop. not just slow down, but actually stop. 

sometimes i don't want to talk. but i'm too polite to say, i just can't talk right now, and my words come out short and hard and without feeling.

sometimes the breeze picks up just at the right time of the hot afternoon, like it did today.

and i am reminded that heat begets cool, that it won't be hot forever. 

i will not feel like this forever.

i've not forgotten the words of my gregarious, kind boss hoyt carrier (at my very first photojournalism internship at the grand rapids press) ... after particularly hard days, he'd say, "tomorrow is a new day." 

tomorrow is a new day.

[i have a rotten cold on this glorious 4th of july, while my family is reunioning, i'm home in bed. because i had to stop.]