God keep our Caribbean islands safe during this hurricane season. Cover us and may no wave, depression, storm or any category of hurricane touch our shores, Amen.
i have no desire to be rich so i can buy a rolex or a lamborghini.
i want to be rich so i can control my time and go to the gym at 3pm on a monday.
sit at a cafe and relax for an hour on a rainy afternoon.
so i can cook meals at home with fresh ingredients.
spend on my family and friends without worrying about a budget.
that's my idea of a rich life, not the fake consumerist idea shoved down my throat.
My dad always said he was terrible at romance, that love was overrated. After my mom passed, I found a notebook on his nightstand. It was filled with tiny notes: her favorite tea, how she liked her scarf tied, what song made her laugh. He’d been writing it for years, keeping track of her life so he wouldn’t forget how to love her properly. I never saw him cry, but reading that, I understood some love doesn’t disappear. It just collects itself in quiet corners.
He didn’t trust himself to “feel it right,” so he chose to remember it right. That notebook wasn’t about forgetting; it was about devotion made practical. Paying attention. Recording care. Love as maintenance, as stewardship. The kind that shows up every day and doesn’t need an audience.